Imprisoned Realm
by LoveHP
Summary: A trap during the Horcux hunt sends Harry into a nightmarish dimension where war has reigned for 28 years. Other thing worse than Voldemort, the evil Ministry of Magic, the threat of a new Dark Lord & parents who despise him, is the new situation Harry's thrust into. Dark/Horror. Adult themes: prison, torture. J/L, implied H/G & Harry/Bellatrix, Harry/Ocs. Please Read/Review.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: It's set late during Harry's seventh year. Mostly Canon until just after the trio see Mr Lovegood during their Horcrux hunt in HPDH . Also Harry's wand was never broken.  
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_**Disclaimer. I'm not JKR, I don't own HP, and I'm not making profit out of this story. So if you sue me, a thousand baby kittens will die a horrible death.**_

_**Please be aware that I do not have a beta reader for this fic. If you spot any mistakes, please tell me.**_

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**Imprisoned Realm**

**Prologue**

Under the dark sky, the moon shone through the cloudy mist onto a forgotten church. It overlooked a quaint Muggle town where its tiny houses were filled with pinpricks of warm light drifting from their cottage windows. Though, their light filtered through the ominous white mist that had all spread over the country, lasting many years. The mist had baffled the Muggle realm. Some blamed it on Global Warming, while others speculated that this mist had been caused by the terrorists (Muggles have christened them, The Green Skulls) who have created havoc and destruction in Britain for the last twenty-eight years.

The church was in a bad state of disrepair: its stained glass windows shattered to pieces and its inside filled with nesting birds and rats. An owl hooted in the church tower where once a magnificent bronze bell hung in all its glory.

On the church's decaying roof, an old wizard with a long white beard, wearing a dark travelling cloak and purple boots, sat quietly on the ledge, as though this was a completely natural thing for him to do. He sucked on a sherbet lemon as he watched an owl glide past. It was certainly a strange sight for any Muggle to witness, let alone a wizard and witch. However, Albus Dumbledore wanted to experience a bird's eye view of the little town beneath.

Though, this strange expedition had its purpose.

There was a small pop to his side. A wizard, tall like Dumbledore and just as old, sat beside him. This wizard wore a crimson cloak and magnificent embroidered blue robes. He pulled down his hood, sniffing the cold air. He had a silver goatee with a pointed moustache. His slick white hair was pulled into a ponytail. He took pride in his silvery appearance. His piercing grey eyes were bright like the stars hidden by the mist.

"Well, hello, Albus," started the wizard with the crimson cloak. "This certainly is not the place I would've expected to have a rendezvous. But alas…"

"Alas…" replied Dumbledore. He swung his feet a little over the edge, his robes fluttering in the breeze. "Would you like a sherbet lemon, Gellert?"

Gellert Grindelwald flicked his bushy eyebrows. His eyebrows were much bushier than Dumbledore had ever managed. "So you still like them after all this time? Yes, I wouldn't mind one myself." The wizard smiled. He seemed to fondly remember an old memory from ages past. He helped himself to a sweet from the paper bag Dumbledore held out.

Just like the old days, thought Dumbledore, and how long ago those days were.

"You've cleaned up well, Gellert," Dumbledore noted, gazing inventively at the wizard's new look. Months before Grindelwald had been a gaunt shell of a man tucked away in prison. "I do hope I have not exhausted you too much in your interesting exploits and adventures. I'm particularly amazed that you've managed to tear apart so many foundations in such a short period of time."

"Ahh yes, but I have to admit that my skills have rusted a little," he chortled, like it had been a fairly simple thing to do; destroying a Muggle village. Like his sixty years in prison had been a mere holiday.

Dumbledore frowned. "Yes you are starting to gain Voldemort's attention now… but tell me, have you thought of any plans as of yet? Do not get carried away, Gellert, enjoying your freedom. I need your help to end this war, this is your chance to set your past wrongs right. You know what your true mission is."

Grindelwald looked aghast. "Of course I haven't forgotten!"

Dumbledore wasn't so sure about this.

"Why then? Why have you helped me escape the prison I had built, and why are you helping me to gain power?" he asked, looking at Dumbledore from the corner of his eyes.

Using Grindelwald had been a risk from the very first day. There was always a chance that he would gain power without helping The Order of the Phoenix. But he had to take a chance with his once best friend and admirer. Dumbledore was not the powerful wizard he used to be, and he was not the power whom Voldemort used to fear. He was weary and tired and he wanted nothing more for the war that had last twenty-eight years to end.

Grindelwald sat completely expressionless, staring right ahead at the little town below them.

"It is because you wouldn't be of any use to me if you did not have power."

Grindelwald raised an eyebrow. "Really, is that all Albus? It seems to me I'm doing the greater good I was put in prison for."

He looked at Grindelwald grimly through his half-moon spectacles. "I did not ask you to terrorise Muggles, Gellert!" Dumbledore spat and Grindelwald visibly recoiled.

"It will not happen again, Albus, however, Lord Voldemort's followers need to notice that I too, seem to care about the purity of our world and thus get them interested in my little group."

Dumbledore pondered this for a moment. It was a horrible tactic, but he had to admit, it was one which will prove fruitful. "You must stay in England now… that is the only way Voldemort will realise the challenge you pose."

"I've already started to transfer all of my resources," he said curtly.

"Excellent!" stated Dumbledore, "and make sure you do not kill any Muggles."

Grindelwald sniffed loudly, but did not press further with the details. Instead, Dumbledore knew this wizard was itching to ask him something that had been on his mind since his escape.

"Abus, do you still have it?"

"Why is that such a concern to you, Gellert?" He knew the wizard longed to see it again. Perhaps it would give him an edge if he had it within his grasp.

"I've heard rumours that - why - that you lost the wand to Tom Riddle years ago."

Dumbledore did not answer for awhile. "I lost it two years ago, just before Hogwarts closed."

Grindelwald's eyes lit up for a moment. "And you survived? This Riddle did not take over the school?"

"By chance I survived, yes. I kept him out of Hogwarts for as long as I could. But, by then the Muggle-borns were dwindling in numbers. They pulled out one by one. Then the Chamber of Secrets opened according to Voldemort's plan and the rest of them were tragically murdered by the basilisk that lived within its depths. I lost over one hundred students that bloody night." The shock of it still froze Dumbledore's heart.

There had been a rumour that the opening of the Chamber of Secrets had been Harry Potter's doing. Dumbledore had not believed this at first, believing the boy when he had denied it, but since the tragic murders Harry had inflicted almost a year after Hogwarts closing, Dumbledore had to weigh up the evidence. Even though the boy was now in Azkaban, a niggling feeling crept into Dumbledore's mind. He knew there were still missing pieces to the Harry Potter puzzle. He wanted the truth on how his protégé became so evil and bent, though Dumbledore knew that part of Harry Potter's downfall, if not, in fact all of it, had been his own fault. Fledgling mages did have a habit of distorting their souls, if they absorbed the power around them to quickly. However, his investigations into the matter had been put on hold for now as he dealt with bigger things, and Gellert Grindelwald was one of those bigger things.

"Now Hogwarts is closed, the wards are down and Dark Magic surrounds it. What most wizards don't know is that Voldemort had taken over the school soon after with the Elder Wand in hand. I wasn't there when it happened, I was recovering." _I am still too weak to fight, since Tom nearly defeated me_, Dumbledore thought, though he would never say it out loud, especially to Gellert. "Hogwarts is the Dark Lord's hiding place." He said this calmly, though the bitterness still seeped through every pore in his body.

Grindelwald fiddled with his goatee. "I knew that not all the truth about Hogwarts had made it out. The Ministry of Magic has an iron fist here. What else is there that I should know? Tell me more about life here? There are too many rumours in Europe and this mist, this dreadful Dementor driven mist, makes misery come to life."

Dumbledore nodded sullenly. "The British Ministry is a complete farce! They are too embroiled between themselves; morals and ethics have been destroyed in the last two decades in order to fight Voldemort. Rufus Scrimgeour has been the Minister for Magic for the last decade. He is ruthless in his capabilities, growing more paranoid by the day. He has his own elite Aurors to protect him. Thomas MacCloud, Head of the Auror department is very much powerful yet merciless wizard, some say that he is imbalanced and cruel. Dolores Umbridge is the Senior Undersecretary and Head of Interrogation and the Prevention of Crime and Sedition squad. She abolished laws, allowing Aurors to use the Unforgivables. She's given the Aurors power to search and violate people's privy and to interrogate any way possible. They enjoy their power."

"My word!"

"My word, indeed… There are witch hunts. Say one word against the Ministry and they'll label you a Death Eater and they will cart you away to Azkaban. Then, they'll brainwash your family. If your family don't comply, they're imprisoned as well.

"In order to protect us, Scrimgeour says, we must change our ways. Match up to Voldemort with the same use of dark magic. 'The only way we will win is to fight the Dark with the Dark.' Utter madness. I have since cut away most ties with them. I do not interfere with them. I have the Order now, with thousands of members and still growing. We are the Light against the weight of both enemies." Dumbledore waited for the wizard to digest his words. A winter breeze whooshed past them.

"Gellert, we must remain in between the chaos here. _You _must remain between them: Between Voldemort and the Ministry."

"But you want me to destroy-"

"Destroy and ruin foundations yes, to kill no. You need to give Voldemort the right illusion."

"You've grown strange in you're old years."

Dumbledore curved his lips into a thin smile. "Perhaps..."

"It has been like the last sixty years have been a wisp of smoke."

Dumbledore sighed. "The past is the past, and now times have grown more desperate."

"Yes, it seems so desperate that you had to pluck me out from the darkest of dungeons, eh?" Grindelwald chortled.

"I cannot battle him, Gellert." Dumbledore felt frail. "I cannot die until there is someone strong enough to fight him... stronger than me… working for the Light.' _Voldemort damaged me. I am half the man I was long ago._

"Now, now, you know that is utter nonsense!"

However Dumbledore looked away, as though those words Gellert had uttered were shameful and humiliating.

"Would you like me to kill him?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Please try to avoid it."

A wrinkled smile curled on Grindelwald's lips. "How interesting… after all the trouble he's caused thus far? Then why these far fetched ideas?"

"I'm worried that you do not have the skills to match up to Lord Voldemort. Besides that is not your job to do it."

"Oh I wasn't talking about _that _fellow, Dear Albus, I was talking about the_ boy_!"

Pausing for a second or two, Dumbledore scratched the point of his crooked long nose. "First you will deal with the plan set out step by step…"

"There's something your not telling me about Harry Potter is there? Is he the boy who is meant to kill—"

"There are plenty of things which you do not need to know about Harry Potter, besides the fact that he is a dangerous Death Eater. You will know more in time."

"Hmmm, yes, but what about the prophecy then?" Grindelwald pressed on, hungry for answers.

"What of it?" Dumbledore asked curtly.

"Is there more than one?"

"Our conversation should end here, Gellert." He stared into the wizard's grey eyes, remembering how much in common they had. Their youth together flooded back. Their fun and adventures their thirst for power and answers. Dumbledore wanted to know how on earth Gellert knew that another prophecy existed.

Grindelwald looked disappointed. "Very well then, Albus, until the next time we meet." With a pop he vanished, leaving Albus alone on the church roof.

Dumbledore sighed, staring at the very spot Grindelwald had sat. He saw something glittering on a broken slate and snatched it up. Dumbledore chuckled to himself as his eyes raked over Grindelwald's gold calling card. A black 'G" was scrolled upon it, it swirled as though it were alive and writhing.

Satisfied with the evening's events and perhaps a little twinge of doubt writhing in his stomach, Dumbledore pocketed the calling card and pulled out a tattered old note from the same pocket. The note had looked as though it had been opened, folded, or flattened a thousand times. Dumbledore had read it often, making sure that before the fruition of whatever far fetched plan he had, the words in this note would always ground him firmly in reality. In neat handwriting scrolled across the piece of paper were the words:

_I did what you asked me to do, yet you've betrayed me._

Dumbledore closed the letter he had treasured for long. He treasured the words for its meaning, for its silent threat. He traced out the boy's tear stains. The boy he had trained. He was the very boy who had fallen spectacularly from grace. Dumbledore knew his day would come. But until then, he had plenty of work to do.

**So! Tell me what you think... please review. **


	2. Into the Mirror

**Chapter 1**

**Into the Mirror**

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"I have a bad feeling about this place," Ron said.

Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger held their lit wands up high above them, surveying their dark surroundings. They were in a mountainous crevice deep in the most remote and hostile area of the Scottish Highlands. Not even a hint of grass grew on the wind swept mountain they had ventured into and birds rarely came near it. Sharp jagged rocks lined the crevice and its high ceiling disappeared into thick darkness. The wind outside roared like a freight train, while the cold within was so bone deep that ice had formed on Harry's clothes. It was early summer, yet here, it felt like it was the middle of winter.

As they drew deeper and deeper within the fissure, three forks in the passage presented themselves. Two out of the three were to thin to pass through. For a skinny teenager like Harry, he contemplated whether he could squeeze through, but thought better. Even now, after many months of near starvation making all his bones jut out, he very much doubted it. They ended up walking through the third.

"This is ridiculous!" Hermione piped, looking quite frustrated. The dampness of the place was making her hair bushier than normal. "I swear I saw something: a strange blue mist coming from this cave."

"We believe you, Hermione. We saw it too," Harry stated.

They had seen some strange, yet futile endeavours over the several months of their Horcrux hunt; this was turning out to be no different. But their excitement and hopefulness still lived.

Harry ran his hands over the wall of the cave just like Dumbledore had done the time they had searched for the locket Horcrux, potentially revealing a secret passage. He only found that it was very cold to the touch and wet. He accidentally cut his finger over a piece of dark blue crystal. "Ouch!"

"Are you okay mate?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, sucking on his bleeding finger.

He had suffered much worse on the hunt so far. He had almost been killed by Voldemort's snake, Nagini. Harry was also nearly strangled by the locket Horcrux as he struggled to fish out the Sword of Gryffindor out of an icy pond months before. He was only saved in time by the return of his best friend, Ron.

After destroying the locket, their interest turned to the strange triangular symbol that had cropped up on Dumbledore's signature, on a grave at Godric's Hallow and the necklace which Luna Lovegood's father, Xenophilius, wore. It took them to the Lovegood's house. Upon discovering that the symbol described the Deathly Hallows and that Luna had been abducted by Death Eaters, they had narrowly escaped with their lives after Mr Lovegood had alerted the Death Eaters. They felt lost for awhile, their hunt turning upon a dead end once again. They travelled to Albania, one of Voldemort's travels. While they sat stony-faced in their tent one night, they reminisced about old times at Hogwarts and family and friends. Harry thought of Luna and suddenly Ron yelped, remembering a small detail. Something in Luna Lovegood's house had got him thinking: Rowena Ravenclaw's lost Diadem which Mr Lovegood's conversation had only touched upon.

Hermione had been reluctant at first, but Harry and Ron eventually won her over.

When they had camped for the night, Hermione flicked through Hogwarts: A History for the thousandth time, searching for Ravenclaw or anything remotely talking about a diadem. They knew the beautiful Hogwarts founder was from Scotland. This fact took them straight here. They came across an old warlock deep in the north, who had heard tales of a place that Rowena would study in peace and experiment with magic. He had led them to this place in the mountains: The Giant's Cut, an ancient crevice named by the local wizards in the area.

After months travelling like lost souls, Harry felt as though he was on the verge of victory.

"LOOK! Over there!" Hermione cried, making Harry and Ron jump. Her voice echoed and bounced off the rocks into oblivion.

Harry squinted. He saw it as well. It was certainly a strange mist; dark blue and ominous. Harry inched toward it and noticed that the mist came out of a tunnel.

Hermione grabbed his arm. "Harry, wait! It might be dangerous." She pointed her wand toward it and muttered an incantation. Harry and Ron watched on. When the spell produced nothing, Hermione resorted to throwing a rock at it. Again nothing happened. "Well it seems safe… but I don't know."

Throwing caution into the wind, because they wouldn't discover anything else if they didn't, Harry moved his fingers into the mist. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting some sort of pain or disfiguration. The only thing he had felt was a strange cold that made his skin and bones prickle with power, making his hand seem more alive than it already was. He pulled his hand away when the cold started to creep up along his arm. He turned to see Hermione's peaky face glistening with cold sweat. She seemed very excited and intrigued.

"What is it?" Harry asked. He rubbed his fingers where the mist had touched it, warmth flowing back.

"I—I don't know." Her eyes were wide. She was thirsting to find out what it was.

"At least it didn't kill you," Ron smirked. He took a step forward and felt the mist for himself. "This feels so weird!"

"There is ancient magic in this place." Hermione's eyes followed the trail of mist up above them, until the darkness swallowed it up. "This is it! This is the place where Rowena found solace. Isn't it just fascinating?"

"Yeah, it is. But I still have a bad feeling about this place." Ron tentatively placed a hand on the crevice wall trying to pull out one of the blue crystals.

"We have to really careful now. You-Know-Who might've booby-trapped this place," replied Harry, eyeing Ron apprehensively as he pulled out the crystal and pocketed it.

Harry's heart was pounding. He really hoped that this location yielded Rowena Ravenclaw's Horcrux.

He looked beyond the mist and discovered that the tunnel contained roughly carved stone steps. "There's stairs—"

"ARRRRRGHHHH!"

"RON!" Hermione screamed.

Harry turned back in fright. Ron had fallen through the side of the wall and was tumbling down another series of steps. He had unwittingly opened a secret passage. Harry and Hermione followed swiftly, rushing down the stone stairs in aid of their best friend. They finally heard a thump at the bottom and Ron's echoing groans.

"Ron, are you okay?" Harry yelled.

Hermione reached him first, her cloak flying about her. "Oh Ron!" she said, kneeling beside him. There was a large gash on his head. Blood had begun to seep into his clothing.

"M'ok," Ron croaked, feeling the cut on his head. He paled even more at the sight of the blood on his fingers. Hermione quickly wiped the blood away with the edge of her cloak and then fished around for the bottle of dittany in her purse, as Ron went into an explanation of what had occurred. "I just touched this massive blue crystal, and the wall vanished."

"It's ok, mate… do you feel anything broken?" Harry asked, worry etched into his face.

"I don't think so."

Harry propped Ron up slowly. He looked around the chamber, his eyes suddenly adjusting to the strange blue light. He swore loudly.

"Look I'm sorry," Ron mumbled, "I just wanted to get a one of those big crystals. I didn't mea—"

"No, Ron" Harry interrupted, pointing his wand around the chamber. "Look around you."

Both his friends' jaws dropped.

Around them books and thick scrolls lined the chamber walls. More bizarrely, hundred of tomes were floating above them out of reach and the same blue mist they had seen above lingered here more thickly. The mist seemed to have created a barrier around the books, swirling slowly around them like time did not exist here.

"You're bloody brilliant, Ron!" Harry yelled in joy as he ventured over to a stone shelf carved into the chamber wall. Excitement pumped through his chest. They were going to find the diadem.

"Thanks." Ron staggered upright with Hermione's help, though he seemed unsure whether his tumble down the passage had really been worth the effort. They walked around the circular room together.

Harry cautiously put his hand through the mist, grabbing hold of a large leather bound book that sat on a shelf carved out from the stone wall. The book looked as new to the day it was made. Frowning, Harry opened the cover, the colours were bright and the gilding beautiful. Little drawings of people walked about the cover. The scrolled text shifted lightly as though it were in a breeze. It was made over a thousand years ago in complete Latin, yet perfectly preserved with not a dog-eared page, fading colours or the peeling of leather in sight.

"Hey Hermione, this book doesn't look old," Harry announced. Hermione peeked over his shoulder, snatching the book off his hands. Ron took another off the shelf.

"Hmm. It's like the mist is… _oh_…" Hermione's eyes suddenly glazed over. Harry recognised the symptoms she had straight away. She was remembering something vague, subsequently she was now in desperate need of a library. Hermione suddenly began rummaging through the shelves looking for something, opening each book in a hurried state.

"What is it?"

Ron's eyebrows disappeared under his long red hair. "When she gets like this, there's no use getting the info out of her until she's ready."

Harry agreed as he continued to explore the chamber. A book floating above decided to hover near his ear. It was the only floating book to have come down low enough for him to touch.

But immediately Harry knew this was the wrong thing to do. Something very bizarre and unwelcome was happening to him, a white light erupted from the spot he had touched and he seemed glued to the book, unable to shake it off.

"WHAT—"

"HARRY!" Hermione screamed. Ron tried to grab him but the white light repelled him and he was ricochet across the room hitting one of the shelves.

Now a familiar yet strange sensation of travel was occurring. The tome was in fact, a Portkey of sort. But it wasn't a normal Portkey as Harry soon found out. There was no normal hooking sensation around his belly button, nor was there that familiar feeling of being sucked through space. Even the colour he saw through his confused eyes wasn't normal: it was red, a darkish red that struck foreboding into every inch of his being. Within the dark red void, blinding light suddenly pierced through, like claws had been scratching it away. Harry yelled and squeezed his eyes shut as the blinding light stung.

Paralysed by an unknown strength binding to him like tentacles, Harry was forced to hear Hermione's and Ron's anguished screaming and shouts. He tried to yell back, but nothing escaped his mouth, the force around him prevented him from doing so. Then, out of nowhere, a loud whooshing sound roared in his ears, drowning out Hermione's terrified shouts. After a second he heard strange sounds, people's voices; snippets of conversations. Some seemed happy, others angry. There were snatches of laughter and moments of crying, and something which sounded like a train blazing past him. It was like somebody was tuning a radio to their favourite station.

Just as the noise had become excruciatingly loud, it had abruptly stopped. He then heard nothing. Peace pervaded, but only just. It was like the longest Floo Harry had ever experienced.

He never felt himself hit hard ground. The strange light and colours had vanished and now his eyes were squeezed shut. His ears continued to ring loudly; this kept him from recognising the sounds of his new surroundings, and his heart drummed so hard it hurt. His head swirled with vertigo and bile crept up his throat as for a moment he thought hard whether or not he should open his eyes. He did wasn't sure if he wanted see for himself where he was and what had happened.

Taking in a deep breath, Harry finally did so. The book he had been stuck to his hand lay in his lap, looking quite ordinary. He read the title in a state of panic, unable to look beyond the book in fear of what he would find. The book read in a strange language. _Oe Fo Irbil_. He picked it up using the sleeves of his jacket and flung it far away from him as though it were diseased.

He finally took the courage to look around his new surroundings. He expected to see himself in some deserted park or forest, or perhaps a backyard or even a dungeon. Instead what he saw stunned him beyond comprehension. After a moment of complete shock, Harry bolted upright and skidded backwards until he smacked against a wall. He was lost for words. Surely he was dreaming?

A woman, aged in her mid thirties, with auburn grey-streaked hair was pointing a wand right into his face. What shocked Harry most of all was those bright green eyes that framed her face. It was the face he knew well from photos and memories.

Lily Potter stared at Harry with angry and shocked eyes.

"M-mum?" Harry managed to say with his dry throat. He was utterly incredulous. Was he dead? A nightmare of course, he thought. But still, Harry had that hopeful twinge in his stomach. He wished that his eyes were not betraying him. "Mum… L-Lily Potter?" He shut his eyes for a moment, shook his head and opened them again, hoping his eyes would shutter his vision.

Lily's wand shook slightly and she had gone pale at those simple words, it was as though she had not been called 'mum' by Harry for a very long time. Her mouth quivered as she fought to say the right words, her eyes darting from door to window then to Harry again in desperation. Her other outstretched hand was fumbling on a cabinet behind her for support. Yet Lily's wand was still dangerously positioned at Harry's nose.

Then this woman said something which shook Harry even more…

"H-Harry… how did you escape Azkaban?"

Harry's eyes widened. This all had to be some horrible dream. The entire scene was so surreal for him to even absorb. The woman, who looked like his mother asked him how he got out of a prison. Why was he in a prison? Did he just hear correctly?

"What?" he whispered, brows crinkled together. He could feel a hot flush of despair creep up his stomach and into his chest. "Azkaban? I was never in Azkaban."_ I really am dreaming!_

Harry could see the woman thinking hard, her chest heaving in and out, in shock and he could tell she was dead scared. "Harry, you escaped last night… everyone's been looking for you. How did you do it? And why, why did you come back here?"

"Come back? Listen! I didn't come here, I—I'm not even sure where here is! Or if this is real…" _Am I unconscious?_ Harry wildly thought.

Lily laughed haughtily. "Yes, son, this is very real, too real for even me. Did you come back to kill us all?"

"What—?"

"Don't play coy with me, Harry, I know you well," Lily spat.

Harry stared at her; he felt a sense of grief and fear. Where the hell was he? This woman, was she really his mother? He felt slightly faint. She was either his mother or an incredibly great acting Death Eater.

"Obviously you don't," he muttered, pinching himself, making sure he was truly awake.

Lily cautiously moved towards the blinds, pulling them down. The room was instantly bathed in an eerie dull light, making him feel claustrophobic.

"Tell me the truth."

There was malice in her voice that Harry didn't like. "I. Don't. Know!" Harry stressed in frustration. "And you? You're not real!"

This all had to be some nasty trick. Irrational theories sprung into his mind: Voldemort had tricked him and Rowena's Crevice was a trap. He was trying to convince himself that this wasn't real, because Lily Potter had died almost seventeen years before. He pulled out his wand.

Lily, acting with instinct, waved her wand. A jet of red light sizzled past Harry's ear, smashing a family portrait behind him. Harry covered his head, ducking as a shower of glass and red sparks danced off the walls.

"Look," he panted. He wasn't prepared to curse the woman yet, not until he got some answers, though he pointed it nonetheless, ready to defend himself. "I touched that strange book," Harry pointed toward it. Lily quickly glanced at it. "And, it acted like a Portkey. Only now, I'm not so sure it really was a Portkey. I don't even know where this place is."

Lily looked at him closely with a calculating expression Harry only knew too well from knowing Snape. But he didn't feel she was using Legilimency. He wasn't great at Occlumency, though he had been practicing a little over the last few weeks in the cold boring nights, watching and protecting their campsite as Hermione and Ron slept.

"Stop the lying, Harry! You haven't been anywhere but Azkaban."

What the hell was going on, thought Harry. His heart was pounding so hard in panic. He couldn't have time travelled, could he?

"Mummy?"

Lily gasped, and so did Harry at the sound of a little girl's voice. Or perhaps, had he travelled into a Mirror Universe?

"Mummy what's going on? I heard shouting and something break."

Harry could tell this woman- his mother was now extremely frantic, her wide eyes pealed on the figure he could not see in the hallway. But he looked towards the shattered glass which scattered the living room floor, finding the portrait that had fallen. His heart nearly stopped when he picked it up. All five members were staring at him. His mum and dad were in it, along with three children. There were two teenage boys, both auburn haired like their mum, and the tallest wore glasses. The little girl, who looked about nine in the picture, had black pigtails, but her glassy eyes were all white, as though she could not see. She was not smiling and neither did she wave. But most notably, Harry realised that in the picture, there was no Harry at all.

"He's here, isn't he?"

"Jessica, darling, I want you to go up to your room, lock it, and contact your fath—no wait- contact Remus and tell him he's back. You know what to do, now go!" There was urgency in Lily's voice.

Why would a Death Eater go to great lengths to include a child, when they had him trapped already? Harry ran several likely scenarios through his mind.

"Jessica," he whispered, staring into her misty eyes in the photo. If all this was true, then Harry could've had a little sister and brothers. He was suddenly jolted out of his thoughts when he felt something hard on his temple. He let go of the picture, letting it crash onto the floor again.

"Give me your wand and get up!" Lily said, holding her wand at Harry's head.

"What are their names… your two boys?" Harry asked, obeying the woman for now.

"Don't even pretend- you know what their names are. Now move!" He felt a painful jab on his temple and he complied. He wasn't ready to fight back.

Harry passed the kitchen and was led to a closed door. Lily opened it to reveal a vast darkness, and rickety steps that seemed to lead nowhere. "Get in there. And don't bother using wandless magic; the basement's got a number of protective enchantments Dumbledore has kindly put on."

Dumbledore was alive here! Harry thought as he was forced into the room. As soon as he was inside, Lily closed it and he could hear a number of locking charms wielding the door shut. Harry could see nothing. He would've made his move, but he wasn't sure if it was really her. And just by the off chance he had accidentally made into some other dimension, as they had discussed in Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts… then he had nowhere to go, especially since he was a fugitive in this strange new world.

Questions buzzed through his mind. Since when did he know wandless magic? He could do non-verbals just like any other wizard now, but it was rare for someone to do magic without a wand. To become a mage was uncommon, and was usually done through Dark magic. But a natural born mage was even rarer and Harry doubted he was born with this gift. Dumbledore would've told him, surely? Most normal wizards and witches who had decided to become mages never lived long, because they absorbed the power around them too quickly and it eventually destroyed them. More questions buzzed. What was this world's Harry like? And what did he do that turned his own family and world against him? Was Voldemort alive? And since Harry hadn't died in this world, does this mean Neville was the Boy Who Lived, or worse, dead?

Harry had so many questions and the feeling of hopelessness was beginning to fill the pit in his stomach. Bowing his head in the darkness as he managed to find the corner of the room, using only his fingers, he wasn't so sure his questions would ever be answered.

Harry leaned his head on the cold wall, and closed his eyes. Maybe when he woke up, he could joke around with Ron about this stupid dream. But if all this was real, Harry didn't know what to do.

**Thank you for reading. Please review :)**


	3. Broken Dreams

**Chapter 2**

**Broken Dreams**

The mist outside the little cottage swirled around, but Remus Lupin sat nicely rugged up in a ragged old armchair reading a letter from Kingsley Shacklebolt.

It was a report detailing three strange murders of Death Eaters within the past week, each occurred in different locations, and each with a divided triangular symbol with a circle within carved on their cheek. It left him perplexed. Who would use the symbol of the Deathly Hallows now days? These strange murders had been ongoing for months. There were many suspicions, and people were beginning to circulate wild rumours. Some say it was Grindelwald, others say it's a rouse by the Ministry.

It couldn't be Grindelwald, thought Remus. Months before, he had been sent word by Dumbledore that Grindelwald was still nicely shackled up in his prison cell of Nurmengard. The old warlock must be chuckling at these so called Deathly Hallow murders. Still, Remus couldn't shake the doubt.

The victims of these Deathly Hallow murders were not missed, but the message they sent was strong, and Remus was glad the ripple of fear was spreading amongst Voldemort's followers.

Flames roared in his fire grate, painting the room purple. The war-torn man, with the look of someone who was recovering from a major illness, turned slowly towards the fire, catching his eye on a mirror beforehand. He hated mirrors and shadows. He hated the way the shadows emphasised his sunken eyes and cheeks. The wisps of grey in his hair made him wince at how prematurely old he must look. Even the dilapidated, scarred house he lived in made him feel older than he should have been.

"Remus?" called a familiar little girl from the grate. Jessica always placed a smile on his face. A gentle smile was always rare these days.

"Hello Jessica, darling, how are you to-?"

There was something wrong, he could sense from the Flooed head of Jessica Potter. Perhaps it was the way her lips quivered or the terror in her blind eyes. "What's happened?"

"Harry's back. Mummy caught him. She wants you to come over here, right now!" She didn't bat an eyelash; her foggy eyes reflected the dancing purple flames.

Remus felt as though all breath had been knocked out of him. He knew Harry would try something against his own family again. He just didn't think it was this soon.

He was still amazed Harry and a few other Death Eaters had escaped the day before from prison. The Dementors left years ago to work for Voldemort. Now Goblin charms and curses shielded Azkaban. They are an ancient and a formidable power of their own, and only a few people and goblins knew how to break them.

"Has he hurt any of you?"

Jessica shook her head before her head disappeared from the flames. Remus leapt off his seat, draped his worn cloak over his shoulders and stepped into the flames. "The Potters!" he shouted. His mind whirled just like his senses as he travelled through the Floo connection.

The Floo Network was now so closely regulated, that the Ministry of Magic had to authorise every single travel. Once the user stepped into the fire grate and said where he wished to go, he would then be automatically Flooed to the Ministry where he would need to fill out a tedious amount of paperwork, or occasionally be subjected to a random interrogation about his itinerary. Sometimes the user never made it to his destination or back home.

However, the Floo version that the Potters and every member of The Order of the Phoenix used, was the highly dangerous and illegal version. It allowed them to circumnavigate the Ministry and travel without detection. Nobody knew who had invented this illegal Floo network, but Remus suspected that Dumbledore had had a hand in it. The only annoying thing about this illegal Floo was the fact of its constant unreliability; there would be periods of no networking in order to stave off Ministry suspicions and raids.

The dizziness stopped a few moments later and he felt his feet land in warm ashes, the purple flames licking around his cloak harmlessly. Remus almost tripped out of the grate, his senses a little battered. He had only recovered from the full moon a few days before, so still felt weakened by the ordeal. He took a moment to adjust to the dark surroundings of Jessica's bedroom. All the candles were out and the chill gave him the shivers. But with a swipe of his wand this was remedied.

He found Jessica fiddling with a lock of her black hair, back against the wall, staring ahead, as though there was an interesting artwork in front of her. Remus knelt down and griped the girl's shoulders.

There was a light film of sweat on her forehead and she bit her bottom lip, staring right into his chest. "He's in the basement. Mummy said to lock myself in here."

"You've done well, sweetheart. Now, tell me did he fight back?" Jessica shook her head. "Don't move from here," he said calmly.

"Remus…" the girl whispered, wrapping her skinny arms around him, "I'm scared."

He could feel her nails scraping his back. He hugged her tightly.

"You're safe in here, he won't hurt you again, I promise."

He pulled the girl's arms off of him. Remus was a little concerned and a little suspicious that Harry was caught so easily. Perhaps the tortures of Azkaban had really gotten to the boy. Or maybe he was planning something. One thing was for sure, he didn't trust the young Death Eater, especially since the boy was in Voldemort's inner circle and powerful in the Dark Arts. He opened the door, leaving Jessica to continue watching the wall as he closed it again.

Remus hurried down the staircase, and wasn't surprised to hear a small sob coming from the kitchen. He tore his eyes off the basement door, where behind it imprisoned the teenage traitor, and headed towards the woman who was crying with her head in her arms.

"Lily, I'm here now."

"Oh God, Remus, he's come back! He's here; I can't believe he came back!" Lily wailed, catching him in a strangulating hug. Her long auburn hair was a tangle around her wet face.

"We all knew he would," he said. "It was only a matter of time."

"I- I've tried to be strong, I truly have. But he's still my child. It just doesn't register that he's here to kill us all."

"You're not the only one, Lily, believe me, I think about it every day. But hey, we have to keep our shields up," Remus encouraged, pulling Lily away to stare into her bright green eyes. "Harry is not the little boy you once knew. He's a cold-blooded killer. You just have to look Jessica in the eyes, and Charlie's grave to know that he doesn't discriminate his own flesh and blood. What about the countless people he's tortured and killed?"

Lily sighed and sat down again like a heavy sack of potatoes, as though the word had beaten the denial and heartbreak into a mental closet again. There was a silent moment and Lupin wanted to know what was going through that head of hers. She had been such a tough warrior before now; this has been the first time in a year Lily actually showed any sort of emotion towards Harry. The last time Lily had cried her heart out was when she watched her eldest child being sentenced and escorted from court to his cell in Azkaban.

"I called you instead of James because I know as soon as James sees him, he'll kill him. You know how hot-headed he can be. Besides, it's the first time in years he's had some quality time with the boys, especially in this day and age."

"I know, but Dumbledore needs to know," Lupin piped up. "The Order—"

"Screw the Order for the moment!" Lily got up again. "This is our chance, our chance to talk some bloody sense into Harry- turn him over to the Light—" Her eyes were bright with hope.

Remus furrowed his brow. Lily was hysterical, he thought. "No… it won't work, we've told you countless of times: He too far in."

She crinkled her face, a hand covering her eyes. She took a deep breath and looked at him again. "I don't know why I'm feeling like this. I just don't want to. But it's coming back. I saw something in his eyes, Remus, I really did."

"Like what?"

"Good…" she chuckled coldly. "I'm imagining things aren't I?"

He wanted to say yes, but strangely his mouth felt so heavy, that he couldn't move it.

"Remember when they had caught him, what you said?" Remus said slowly. "Arthur told me about it, after he had accompanied you and Dumbledore to see Harry in the Auror Department. You spat in his face! You slapped him so hard that even Umbridge was surprised by it. You told him right there and then that all you saw in those green eyes was pure evil. You were ashamed that you had given birth to him. You were ashamed that he was of your blood."

"I'm not proud of it. It wasn't me!" She placed a hand over her heart, as though the words were wounds that needed to be healed. "He's… He's still my child!"

Remus had to agree with her. The Lily he knew would be kind to even the most deadly of creatures, would help strangers and outcasts like Remus himself. She'd see past the bad things or faults in that person, and uncover the little bit of good. It was her nature, her soul.

The distraught mother pulled something out of her robe: a battered looking wand in desperate need of a good polish. "Harry had it. We should try to contact whoever it's stolen from."

"I'm going to have chat with the boy, and then we'll call the Order in."

He headed out of the kitchen, and heard a small whisper which sounded like the words 'thank you.'

Harry didn't know how long it had been since he was locked in the basement, but it felt like hours, even days. He sat on the cold floor, with his chin on his knees, hoping that this would soon be over. Feelings were swirling in his head like a whirlpool about to suck him in. He took a deep breathe and tried to relax. It was no use picking for answers right now. He soon wondered what was happening back home. How Ron and Hermione were coping, if they continued on searching for the third Horcrux without him.

Harry's ears pricked up when he heard the unlocking of the basement door. The door creaked open, echoing in the empty space. Squinting from the painful light coming from the kitchen, he saw a figure at the door with his wand raised.

In an instant Harry tried to stand up, but he heard a strong voice. "Move and you'll wish you were never born." With a flick of the man's wand, Harry found himself restrained by invisible ropes.

"Remus?" The dark shadow did not respond. "Professor Lupin?" Harry asked again.

"Since when have I ever been a professor? I've never taught anything in my life." A wand flared up and Harry saw the werewolf perfectly clear. "Have those Atoners addled that brain of yours?"

Harry didn't say a word. It was no use telling him he was the wrong Harry and from another dimension just yet.

"Your mother wanted me to have a talk with you before we call in the Order. She seems to think that maybe we can change you for the better. But you and I both know that'll never happen." He paused. "Now…" the werewolf knelt in front of Harry, his blazing wand between them. Harry shut his eyes, trying to shield them. "Why are you here? You escaped… you could've gone straight to your master."

"I didn't come here. I'm not the Harry you know. I'm from another place. I swear I am!"

Harry was beginning to think that this place was indeed another dimension, mirrored to his own. Flitwick had told them as sixth years, of other dimensions existing. Though, the magic to open the barriers was extremely rare and difficult to find nowadays. The magic is nearly extinct, banned by Ministries of Magic around the world for centuries, just as Horcruxes were and Time Turners regulated. Not only was it rare, but extremely advanced. Only a very unusually powerful wizard could open it. It was realising this, did Harry's stomach fill with butterflies. Rowena Ravenclaw was more powerful than they had possibly imagined.

Remus raised an eyebrow. "That's quite original."

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. "It's true! My friends and I were in strange chamber with floating books, I touched one and it acted as a Portkey. Now I'm here, where apparently I'm an escaped Death Eater." He was used to people calling him a liar or thinking he was mad.

"And you were searching for what exactly?"

Harry hesitated, "Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem."

Remus quietly registered his face. "Why?"

This time Harry did not answer. He clenched his jaw shut and stared into Lupin's eyes.

"Why?" The werewolf repeated more firmly.

"Sorry, I can't tell you."

"I think you're lying."

"Think whatever you want," replied a frustrated Harry.

"How did you come here?"

"The book I touched forced me to travel a mirrored dimension."

There was a moment of silence.

"Harry, now, that wouldn't be magic assessable easily to anyone. Extremely rare!" Lupin scoffed. "Magic within reach of a seventeen year old—"

"Hey, you don't know what I've-"

"What you've done. Oh yes we know what you've done Harry. You murdered you own brother and-"

"-The book is upstairs somewhere! Feel free to check it out."

Remus Lupin sneered. It was the first time Harry had ever seen a sneer on his old professor and it was disconcerting. This world is nothing as he could've imagined. He had once of twice imagined a different world where his parents were alive. But in his world he was happy, his parents loving and happy. His friends and family whole and there was no death and heartache and Death Eaters and Voldemort. A dream too farfetched, he realised. A stupid dream! He thought, as he felt the hurt of that sneer dig deep.

Harry didn't like people staring. Especially as Remus's gaze slowly moved up to his forehead. The wand carefully prodded his sweaty fringe away, revealing the lightning bolt scar, which gave Harry so much unwanted pain.

"That's new," Lupin replied, as Harry tried to move his head away from the wand tip.

"It's a curse scar. It happened when I was one. Voldemort tried to kill me and his curse backfired, because my mother protected me. My parents died that night. It had to do with some stupid prophecy." Harry's heart was beating so fast. He didn't like talking about his past.

Lupin scoffed at him again.

It felt like a blow to his tragedy and the memory of his parents.

"I'M NOT LYING!" Harry spat, anger welling up.

"You're borrowing from the Longbottom's story, Harry. Curse scar? There hasn't been one for centuries!" The werewolf stood up.

"Wait- the Longbottoms are dead? Even Neville?" Harry asked in surprise.

Remus didn't answer. But Harry knew the answer to it just from the professor's actions.

"You have to believe me, sir, where I'm from—"

"I'm sorry, but it's hard to believe you, not when you've done so much to destroy so many people's lives." Lupin shook his wand and the light disappeared again. "Before I leave, where did you steal that wand? For once tell us the truth."

"What wand?"

"The one your mother took off of you…" Lupin replied, exasperation in his voice.

"I didn't steal it. It's mine."

Harry listened carefully, waiting for Lupin to say some thing. Instead he only saw the door closing.

* * *

Lupin felt a little shaken up by the experience, even though it was as calm as it could ever have been. The boy was a lot thinner than he remembered him to be, severely undernourished. His green eyes were dull with dark circles lining them, his skin drawn tight over his skull. His black hair was wild and long. He was a boy who held many secrets and darkness. Harry had been in Azkaban, so it was to be expected that that prison would change people both physically and psychologically.

Even though the Dementors had abandoned it many years before, the Aurors there made sure the prisoners wished they only had horrific memories to deal with. The Ministry doesn't lift a finger to stop the crimes and corruption that plague Azkaban, and the people don't care as long as the light was winning, and the bad were being punished. Some of the Aurors guarding the prison were in fact a second class of Aurors called the Atoners. They were nothing more but hardy criminals, bought over to work for the Ministry in rehabilitation of their crimes. Some were still in prison themselves. To the Ministry, their crimes of thievery, murder and rape were merely misdemeanours, than being a fully initiated Death Eater with the exact same crimes.

The problem with Azkaban was that many truly innocent people were being held there for opposing the Ministry, for daring to speak out against their tactics. As the years pass by, the prosecution of the innocents grows ever stronger and wider.

Imprisoning innocent people and the systemic torture was one of many problems. Another, which Dumbledore was fighting hard against, was the prosecution of the children Abducted by Death Eaters and Conditioned to become soldiers for the Dark Lord. At least, they were housed in a separate part of Azkaban, with only fully trained Aurors to guard them, not the Atoners. These children would be rehabilitated back into the Wizarding community. However, it was only another word for brainwash and oppression. The children would only be freed once their minds were broken once again, but this time filled with Ministry doctrines.

"Did you talk to him?"

Lily broke Remus out of his thoughts.

"Yes…" he said, rubbing his tired eyes. He caught himself on a glass reflection of a painting and turned away.

"Talked to him about what?"

Lupin and Lily jumped at James sudden appearance. Jessica was gripping her father's robes, standing behind him. He looked as livid, as the day he promised on his dead son's grave that he would punish Harry for what he did to them all. Sirius rushed down the stairs as well, his hair combed back sleekly and a goatee proudly adorning his handsome face.

"Where is he?" Sirius said, looking around the hall, his eyes locking onto the basement door. "I want to stare my Godson in the face before I—"

James griped Sirius's shoulder hard; the both of them seemed to communicate in silence.

Lily gaped, suddenly even more paler than she was beforehand. "Where are the boys?"

"I left them with the Weasleys. Now, why the hell didn't you tell me?" James yelled. There was a crease between his brows; his grey flecked hair tumbled over his eyes.

"I-I—I just couldn't!" Lily whimpered, looking over to Jessica cowering figure.

"I'm sorry mummy, but daddy called in to say hello, and it popped out of my mouth," the little girl replied, backing a little further behind her father.

Lupin knew if James got hold of Harry, there wouldn't be anything left of the boy to bury.

**Please review.**


	4. Father's Wrath

**Chapter 3**

**Father's Wrath**

Harry heard several muffled voices coming from upstairs as he sat trapped in the dark basement of the Potters residence. They weren't happy, but angry, betrayed ones.

He didn't have time to reflect on his conversation with Remus Lupin, because what he was hearing was obviously about him and they weren't painting him in a good light. Instinctively, he thought the situation was going to get a lot worse. He held his panic at bay by concentrating on the voices instead. The voices that sieved through the rough basement door suddenly became louder.

"Protect him?" Harry heard an angry man say. "Protect him from what?"

"You, James!" Lily screamed.

"Oh my God," Harry whispered, hearing his father for the first time in this new world. Harry couldn't help but notice how different he sounded, how much more weary and aged. The rage in him was more than Harry could bear. His heart ached at the trauma and devastation the Harry in this world had caused. It shamed him to think that his other self would do such things. How could he have become this person? He shivered at the thought of it. Though, there had been a time in the not to distant past when Harry did think that he would become dark and evil.

"He doesn't need protecting, if you ask me," said another, who sounded like Sirius.

Bile crept into Harry's throat. How he missed Sirius. Hearing him speak again felt so surreal to him. A memory, fresh like it had been yesterday, flashed before his eyes. He saw Sirius falling backwards into the veil in the Department of Mysteries. The dark veil was fluttering slowly, Sirius arching gracefully as he plunged into a world of death and mystery.

The alive Sirius spoke again, shattering the memory into a thousand pieces. It made him sick to think that Sirius also hated him in this world.

"I wasn't asking _you_! Why do you have to be on his side all the time, Sirius?" Lily screamed.

But Sirius didn't answer.

"Because I'm right!" James yelled.

Harry felt it was wise to stand now in the darkness. He tried to ignore the twinge of pure hopelessness in his heart, just hearing his father so full of hatred and bitterness. He started to feel the walls for any weakness, fingers scraping at the bricks. Harry needed to find a way to escape.

"He's going to pay and you can't stop me this time! You can't make Dumbledore restrain me like he did when you saw the boy after he'd been caught!"

"You would've killed him! It was for your own good!"

The darkness seemed to shiver around Harry. He didn't like those words one bit. He touched the wall again with cold fingers, like a blind man desperate to escape a few thugs. Any moment now, he'll see his father again, but this time very alive and in a very murderous mood. The notion did not please him instead his panic pulled free and began to rise.

BANG!

The door flew open and bright light flooded into the basement. Harry scrambled towards a corner. He looked up to see James Potter literally flying down the stairs, with Lily trying desperately to stop him in his tracks.

"NO, JAMES! DON'T!"

Harry didn't even have time to think, let alone speak when he felt fingers curling around his neck. His body smashed against the wall and he couldn't breathe. The pulse in his neck grew stronger and his eyes and head were feeling the unbearable pressure as the hands tightened. James was bent on killing him. Harry dug his nails into his father's wrists, struggling to pull his hands away. Then his eyes widened at the almost insane look on his father's face.

_"You're not my son!_ You died with Charlie," James gritted. "_You died with Charlie!" _

Harry began kicking James, though his grip slackened a bit, all that James did was throw him onto the ground. With horror, he saw Sirius behind stopping Lily from trying to curse her husband. Lily's wand shooting sparks into the air as Sirius struggled to rip it from her hand. She smacked him hard in the face.

"I'm… not… _your_… Harry…" Harry tried to say, feeling pins and needles and stabbing pains in his eyes. It was no use. All it did was fuel the man's capacity to make him suffer for what their real Harry had done.

"Don't Lie! Stop lying!" James spat, smacking Harry's head on the ground, his words drowning out Lily's screams behind him. "You came into the house and you killed him! You almost killed your sister. You could've left them alone and gone for me instead. He was nearly fifteen years old! You killed him a days away from his birthday!" James shouted. Hot tears fell onto Harry's face. It took a moment to register that those tears weren't his.

Harry couldn't see James any more and his voice became a strange echo. "You… you…" The strength around Harry's neck lifted a little. The black specks Harry saw across his vision disappeared. "Murderer…" James finally said.

A girl somewhere screamed. Her voice was so shrill, so high; Harry dimly thought someone would notice her.

Harry didn't feel James let go. He just fell into an uneasy sleep, full of strange flickering lights in a swirling darkness.

* * *

For a moment there was a strange buzz around Remus, but then out of the blue Lily attacked. "YOU KILLED HIM!" she screamed, turning James around and hitting him right on the chin.

Remus's heart thumped in his chest as he cradled Jessica, who continued to scream as he watched from upstairs. The little girl stopped screaming at her mother's diatribe and sobbed quietly into Remus's robes.

"Nonononononooooooo!" the little girl cried.

"He's not dead!" Sirius said quietly, he sounded weak to Remus.

Sirius looked up; catching Remus's eye, but he looked away quickly, feeling disgusted.

"Shhhh, Jess, Harry's going to be all right."

"I don't wa-want him t-to die!"

Remus walked the girl over to the living room and sat her down in the armchair that seemed to swallow her little body up. "Don't move from here, until I say so, all right." Jessica sniffled and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper. He stood up.

"Remus…"

He looked down. "Yes?"

"I di-didn't mean to tell Daddy."

"I know," he replied soothingly. He then rushed away, nearly tripping down the basement stairs. He found Lily crying in a corner, James backed against the wall with his eyes closed, sitting near Harry's still body, and Sirius, rubbing his temples as though the entire bloody event had caused him a migraine.

Remus knelt down, observing the boy's features.

"He's not dead," said Sirius, the bitterness back in his voice.

"I heard you the first time," Remus spat. He was too tired to create a grudge.

Harry was breathing. They could see his chest rising up and down. Deep bruising was starting to blossom around the boy's neck. Remus muttered a spell, and the bruising disappeared.

"Last thing we want, James, is for you to end up in Azkaban for murder. This family's lost so much already," Remus said scathingly. "They don't need to lose a father."

"I think the Ministry would make me a hero instead for getting rid of filth like _him_."

The venom in his voice really showed the grief in James. His heart had been torn out with the death of his child and the evil of the other. It broke the man Remus once knew. James had once been revered for his adventures, for his charm and wit, though at times presented with a little arrogance. He had loved life to the fullest and enjoyed pranking his family members and friends. He showered those he cared with love and affection. He was none of that now. The new James was a brooding fellow, snapping at the littlest mishap, annoyed at smiles and laughter. Now he only had the knack of making more enemies than friends.

"Dumbledore wouldn't!" Lily yelled. Her hair was soaked in sweat. She sniffed, picking up Harry left arm and peeling his robes back. "No matter how much you despise that fact, James, Harry is still our son!"

"Everyone just shut up, all right?" Sirius piped, walking away. Eyebrows knotted together as he thought hard. "I'm going to call in the Order now." He wiped away a little bit of blood from his lip from where Lily had smacked him. He was about to say something about it to her, but the sharp look in her eye stopped him from retorting.

Remus looked over to see Harry's forearm over Lily's shoulder. There was no Dark Mark, except for two scars that looked like puncture marks from a giant snake. He was not surprised. Harry had devised dark ways to cover it up magically. He had created a new spell for it. Originally the Dark Lord did not like Harry's Mark Disguising Charm. Voldemort had commanded that his Death Eaters adorn the mark proudly and with honour, but now it was a useful tool used by many. Lily placed her wand over where the mark should be. Nothing happened. "He's updated the spell!" Lily snapped, letting Harry's arm go.

Following Harry's footsteps, a few Death Eaters now hid their marks to make them appear innocent when interrogated, especially those underage, and from families with no history of Dark Blood. While others, who had the visible Dark Mark, claimed that they had been hoodwinked into joining.

With Voldemort in reign for twenty-eight years, he didn't discriminate from allowing children from joining. Some Death Eaters kidnapped young children whose parents had angered the Dark Lord or refused to join. They broke them and then trained them. Many didn't even survive to become Death Eaters. The families of many members of the Order had fallen victim.

Since Harry was one of the targets of the prophecy they were afraid of this happening to him, but strangely Harry had not been kidnapped. He just walked away from the light. The boy had told them so when he had been captured a month later after his brother's murder.

They believed Harry had joined when he was eleven, leading a double life, not even his parents even fathomed. The Order always thought Harry was trained in secret in the Dark Ways. How his actions could have escaped them all boggled Dumbledore especially. For Dumbledore, Harry's betrayal hit him with devastating effects.

The year before, Harry was as quiet as ever, walked into Charlie's room and uttered those deadly words of the Avada Kedavra curse, killing his brother. He turned around and discovering that his sister had watched, cursed her as well. They never knew why he didn't finish the job. Harry was closest to his little sister and she loved him the most and for that reason Harry may have hesitated to finish her off.

They heard Jessica scream just before she collapsed. Remus and James sped up the stairs to see what the commotion was about, but the boy stood quiet and paralysed when they saw what had occurred. When they approached Harry, he vanished. Harry had broken through the wards protecting their cottage in Godric's Hollow and Disapparated. Only someone with immense power could break through Dumbledore's wards.

To this day, they still don't know why he had only killed Charlie. They were sure however, that Harry was meant to kill the entire family that day.

"What's this?" Lily questioned, as she felt over Harry's clothes for any disguised weapons. She pulled out a pouch from underneath his jacket and ripped it free. Remus watched closely while Lily pulled out the bits and pieces hidden within it: A snitch which fluttered feebly about in her hand, a broken piece of mirror and a burnt and broken gold locket. There was also a letter Lily had once written to Sirius during the dark year they had hidden away from Voldemort in fear that he would kill them because of the prophecy.

"Well, now I know who stole my letters when Grimmauld Place was raided last year," Sirius said. He gave Lily the letter again, and she perused through it, her expression unreadable.

"The mirror…" Remus held the sharp jagged piece in his hands. It was the same sort of magical mirror they had used in Hogwarts growing up to communicate with James, Sirius and Peter. Except now, there was no one friendly to communicate with.

"We'll keep that for the Order, in case the Death Eaters try to speak with Harry,"

"Mummy," Jessica cried once more. The girl was becoming more and more agitated the longer they were down there.

"Come on, let's go. He'll be fine…" Remus beseeched, putting his hands on Lily's shoulders. She still held onto the letter and snitch close to her, as though a breeze would suddenly come in and lift them away forever.

James sighed; he didn't even glance at his son, just stood up, mumbled something under his breath which sounded like, "He still deserves to die," and left. He looked so terribly exhausted and worn out, Remus thought. He watched James, a grieving father, trudge up the stairs like a old man who had lost his walking cane… utterly defeated by the world around him.

"James—"

"Leave him," Lily said calmly. "He needs to deal with this alone; he best deals with these things away from everyone… Remus, we need to keep him away from Harry next time."

Remus agreed sullenly.

"Wait! Harry. We can't just leave him here like this!" Lily expressed to him.

Remus hesitated for a moment, then he waved his wand around and a blanket floated over Harry, with a pillow fitting snug under his head.

"Is that all?" Lily gaped, staring from Remus to her still son. "Shouldn't we leave some water and food?" Lily waved her wand and moment later a jug of water and a tin of baked beans whizzed over the heads, landing softly near Harry's sleeping form.

Remus frowned, thinking that Lily was making an enormous fuss out of things.

"We can't do anything else, until we hear what Dumbledore thinks, all right? We need to protect ourselves. I think he's not weak enough to resist the charms in here, Dumbledore knows Harry's strength now. If he was upstairs… you'll know what will happen." It was too frightening to think about. Harry wasn't a normal teenage wizard anymore.

Remus steered Lily around, helping her up the stairs. He made sure that she did not look back. He felt guilty leaving Harry like that, though he realised there wasn't much they could do without the boy potentially lashing out.

"I think we all need a nice strong cup of tea."

Lily sighed, "Firewhiskey, I think wo—"

She stood frozen, he shoulders tensing. Remus followed her gaze and saw Dumbledore. He was across the living room, staring at them with his piercing blue eyes. One hand was dusting off ashes from his travelling cloak. His half moon glasses were glistening in the purple light of the the illegally Flooed fireplace. "Dare I ask what has happened here?"

Sirius crossed his arms and spoke first. "Harry's returned."

"Yes, I gather that, but what have you done to him?" As he asked this, great purple flames roared to life in the fireplace, producing two new figures; Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley stepped into the room looking rather disconcerted.

"As I have explained to you all before, if we were to come in contact with him, not to harm him. Revenge is all too easy in this day and age, and a little restraint goes a long way."

They all shifted uneasily. There was a fierce chill radiating from Dumbledore's figure. Gone were the days in which only humour and understanding twinkled in those light blue eyes. Now after twenty-eight years of darkness, the toll of war had taken over his kindred spirit. Now he wanted answers fast. Plans and tactics were to be obeyed without hesitation. When Remus noticed how frail Dumbledore seemed, but when he needed to fight, Dumbledore did fight and gloriously he did.

"Is he hurt?" Kingsley asked.

"He's OK…" Remus quickly replied. "We had a little bit of a spat."

However, Dumbledore could see straight through those words. "Where is James?"

Remus suddenly noticed that he was missing.

Lily sighed "I don't know. Frankly, I don't want to be near him at this stage. Hello Arthur, are my children all right?"

Arthur took off his travelling cloak and placed it over his arm. He adjusted his lopsided glasses over his kindly face. "They're fine, Lily. Molly's looking after them. We tried to keep this information from them, but I think they've guessed. Your oldest tried to sneak out some Floo to come here. But I stopped him before he had the chance."

"Well, we all know Michael takes after his father," said Remus.

"Come… let's talk in the kitchen." The old Headmaster moved away, as though proclaiming to everyone he did not want to see Harry just as yet. Remus mentally sighed in relief. Hopefully when Dumbledore did see the boy, he'd be a wake.

"Now, how did he arrive here?" He sat down, flicked his wand behind his shoulder and set the kettle to work over the stove. He then closed his eyes, tapping his fingers together. "Nobody knows how the group of seven had escaped Azkaban."

"Most of the escaped Death Eaters were once abducted children! They're only a couple of years older than Harry," Lily retorted.

"Perhaps, but they are still dangerous," Arthur replied. "They're adults now, their minds broken."

Everyone sat down, Sirius right next to Remus. His cut lip all healed up. "We better go look for James after this meeting, Moony," Sirius whispered.

Remus nodded, but he knew where James was. "Next time, we better keep him calm." Sirius' eyes flashed, much to the werewolf's annoyance. Although Sirius had changed, as they all did since their school days, there were times when he was stubborn to the whims of his heart.

"How did he arrive here?"

Lily disappeared to retrieve something. She walked into the kitchen holding a large leather tome. "This…" She handed it to Dumbledore. "He Portkeyed with this."

Dumbledore quickly snatched up the book, holding it close to his long crooked nose. He squinted, turning the book this way and that, as though he was trying to discover microscopic evidence. "Where did he Portkey from, did he say?"

Lily gave a humourless laugh and went into detail how Harry told them that he had come from a different dimension. "He even had to cheek to ask me the names of his brothers. I heard rumours of what those power hungry Aurors and Atoners do at Azkaban, but I thought… I wanted to believe they weren't true. Harry seems a little bit unsettled… in the head." There was a look of worry on her face.

Dumbledore looked away from Lily and stared at the book again. "Is there anything else?"

"Apparently he has a curse scar." The 'insane' theory was starting to look more and more plausible, Remus thought.

The old headmaster raised an eyebrow. "He has?"

"Shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead. Says You-Know-Who gave him that when he was one. It was caused by the Avada Kedavra Curse rebounding off his head, because he had been protected by his mother, he says. Personally I think an Atoner did that."

Lily looked absolutely shocked and terrified by this piece of information. "Why didn't you didn't tell me?"

Remus opened his mouth, "I thought it wasn't right to tell you at that moment. He said you and James were dead!"

Dumbledore was looking more and more perplexed than ever. "The curse scar is certainly interesting. I'll need to see it."

The headmaster tapped his fingers on the book. It was obvious it wasn't a Portkey anymore. "Now, where's the wand he used, if there was one used?"

Lily took it out of her robe sleeve. "It's Holly and Phoenix feather. I have already checked."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed as he touched it. "His wandless power still needs controlling. He's far too young to master it to its full potential. I told him, he cannot harness it too quickly, there may be repercussions."

This was news to Lily. This was the first time Dumbledore openly spoke about his relationship with Harry with the Order. Lily knew the he had taught the boy advanced magic. It was the period right after Dumbledore lost his battle with Voldemort, that Harry began to change, his power grew beyond Dumbledore's expectations.

"He also had these in a charmed pouch around his neck." Lily dropped the items onto the table in front of them so that everyone could see them clearly. Dumbledore flicked through them with his long fingers. He seemed disinterested in the useless artefacts, except for the snitch which he held up to light and the broken locket which he caressed in the palm of his hand.

Remus stood up, told everyone he needed a bit of fresh air and slipped out of the house. The meeting was beginning to constrict his airway, he felt as though it was suffocating him.

He travelled through a thickset of brambles in the backyard, past a wild bush of roses. Its thorns were snagging at his robes and scratching his hands. There was an old wooden fence and door. He opened it, and there laid out in front of him was a small cobbled path, covered with thousands of clovers. He followed the winding path, past trees that looked as though they had been there for centuries, their gnarled roots creating homes for many fairies. They were inquisitive this evening and had come out to witness Remus walking by. Gnomes near by were ripping up shrubs. This had been Charlie's favourite part of the yard.

Remus ignored the magical creatures until he finally discovered what he had been searching for. Behind an enormous yew tree, lay the private burial plot of Remus Lupin's Godson. There upon the white marble tombstone read:

_Here lies_

_Charlie Ignotus Potter_

_Born: 4-6-1982_

_Death: 2-6-1997_

_Tragically taken by the blow of evil_

_Forever remembered_

_Forever innocent in a world of war_

The fresh flowers by his tombstone signified that his parents changed them everyday. There wasn't a day that they had never visited their son.

Charlie was a boy of a studious nature. He had been a stocky child, with black hair and hazel eyes. He was a quiet boy, softly spoken, but enjoyed the company of his family and the wonders of nature and loved magical creatures and studied them with zeal. He had even formed an unlikely friendship with Luna Lovegood who had many wild stories about creatures and their abilities. They would explore Hogwarts many times in search of them.

Staring at the marble tombstone was James. Remus stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder, hearing his friend sniffle.

"What?" James snapped.

Remus did not recoil, but sighed. "Please, don't treat me like a bothersome fly."

"You're acting like one at this very moment. I want to be with my son in peace."

Remus turned around, without another word he retreated back up the path. Watching each footstep he made on the cobbles, he was about to sit down on a wooden bench when heard James speaking.

"He was studying to become an animagus…"

Remus stopped, turning his head a little at the sound of his friend's voice. "You were teaching him?" He knew that James would've thought this one of his proudest moments being a parent.

"Out of all the kids, Charlie was the least like me and Lily, you know. But when he asked me how to become one… I was over the moon! First one to ask me about it..."

Even from metres away, Remus could see the tears glistening on James's face now.

"He—he almost got it right! He was almost a fully fledged boar. I even dreamt of galloping through Godric's Hallow as Prongs with his son Hogs by his side."

"Hogs" Remus repeated in a whisper, imagining the animal with a big wet snout and sharp tasks.

"Harry… Harry never asked. I—I always thought Harry would."

Remus was surprised now. It was the first time James had spoken again about Harry like the lost son he was, not like a despised murderer and enemy.

"He looked like me the most, but he was Lily's," James touched his heart. "I still had so much hope for him. He had so much potential. He was powerful in defence, he wanted to fight _them._ So why? Why the hell would he do this?" There was a deep, desperate longing in his voice. It made Remus ache so much for James.

"He was such a good kid! He even cared about the bloody house elves being tortured…I just don't understand… Why?" James broke down, he turned away from him and Remus could see his body raking in sobs.

He walked up to the grieving father and laid a hand on his back, feeling the tension in his palm. He wanted to make it all better, but he was only a humble wizard. "James, let's go back." He coaxed soothingly. "Charlie would've wanted you to move forward, not dwell in the past and dreams that could've been."

James stopped sobbing; he let the remaining tears cascade down his cheeks, soaking into his collar. He blinked towards the tombstone, swatted away a fallen leaf on the marble and quietly told Charlie that he would be back on the morrow. Then he led Remus back to the house, without mentioning another word about it.

They both re-entered the Order meeting, ignoring the glare from Lily and the worried glance on Sirius. Dumbledore merely flicked his gaze upon them, before they continued their discussion on the other missing Death Eaters and their plan of interrogation for Harry Potter on how he had escaped Azkaban.

Meanwhile they were all unaware that there was someone outside the kitchen, silently opening the basement door.

**Please review**


	5. Flight

**Chapter 4**

**Flight**

It was an uneasy sleep for Harry, made worse by distant sounds that drummed into his ears. They were persistent noises that went _tap, tap, tap… _

These sounds were nearly lost in the heavy darkness that pressed down upon Harry, but they grew less distant. They seemed to be getting closer.

_Tap… tap… tap…_

Leave me alone, he thought. He just wanted peace with a bit of heaven and warmth to surround him.

_Tap… tap._

"No." His hand moved through the still air as though attached to strings. He wasn't counting on actually hitting something.

A muffled, "Ow!" reverberated quietly somewhere to his left.

Harry finally opened his eyes however it was as though he was still asleep, because he could not see a thing. It was pitch black and silent in the basement again. Did he imagine it? He had been asleep after all. Harry wanted to say 'who's there?' instead he coughed and splattered, rolling onto his side.

"Harry, are you awake?"

He gasped at the sound. He coughed some more as dust entered his lungs. He only ignored the soft voice. He jolted when something; a tiny hand perhaps, touched his shoulder, fumbling a bit in the process.

"Harry…" The voice was familiar, but new and nervous.

Harry relaxed a little, though still breathing in huge gasps, eyes now wide open and alert. He must have looked like a fish out of water.

"Harry, its m-me Jessica." She sounded scared. Scared of him, maybe even frightened of being caught fraternizing with him. Harry wasn't sure. What would James do if he found out? The father had nearly killed him, so anything was possible now. Everyone seen with Harry was an enemy; he knew his father would think that way after experiencing first hand what his vengeance could do.

Harry shifted on the ground; the cold now seeping into his clothes and blanket that had been put on him. Goose bumps erupted all over his body. He gingerly touched his throat; it was a little tender, nothing more.

"Why-?" he coughed. "Why did you come in here?" His voice was hoarse. He licked his parched lips, trying to pinpoint where the little girl's face was. He didn't like the dark, not when he was prisoner and vulnerable to attack. Everything was unpredictable when blinded, and Harry was in no mood for surprises.

"I w-wanted—"

"You shouldn't be here," Harry wheezed. He cleared his throat, massaging his neck.

There was a pause, the darkness pressing in around him like a blanket. He could hear the little girl trembling… feel her fear.

"I'm sorry for daddy hurting you. I didn't mean to tell him."

Harry pulled back a little when her cold hand touched his face, trying to decipher his features. Her hand sprung away. It felt strange for Harry to be touched by a stranger, even though she was only a child and his sister in this world. There was no emotional bond between them and he didn't trust anyone or anything new to him.

"D-Dumbledore is upstairs, doing an Order meeting. I hate Order meetings." Harry could almost sense her pouting in the darkness. "I hate our brothers. They're always playing tricks on me now. I wish you never went to Azkaban. I wished you stayed here!"

For Harry, listening to this little girl pour out her heart to him like a cherished doll made him feel terribly awkward.

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry croaked.

Jessica sniffled for a moment. Her hand was back, now pulling on his long hair.

"Because I've missed you. You are the only one in this family who likes me. Mummy and daddy are too busy all the time with the war. It's worse now since Charlie died. Mike and Chris used to prank Charlie all the time… remember that?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead he momentarily wondered how life would've been like if his parents never died. Was this how it could have been for him? Was he just plain miserable and an escaped murderer?

"…They never bothered with you, because you were the oldest and really good at spells. You always knew before they even tried. You've got good reflexes. That's what daddy used to say when he talked about Quidditch.

Harry noticed how monotone her voice was. There was something peculiar with the little girl, but he couldn't put his finger on it. In the end, he realised that the girl was suffering from the memory and injury of her ordeal.

"Daddy was really disappointed when you never accepted the Seeker position for the Gryffindor Quidditch team at Hogwarts."

"I didn't-?" The words escaped him before he could stop them. Harry never was a Quidditch player? This very much surprised him.

"Daddy wrote you a Howler in your second year, remember? He said you shamed him for passing such a great opportunity and demanded you go straight back to Oliver Wood and beg for the position back."

"No! really?" Harry knotted his brow.

He realised that his father was a bigger arse than he had imagined. If he had a child who had turned down a position or an equally wonderful opportunity, he wouldn't demand why or send them a scathing letter embarrassing the child in front of everyone. "What did I say in reply?"

"Daddy wasn't happy about that letter you sent back, but mummy laughed so much. You said that there were bigger things to worry about than a brain-numbing game, and said that if daddy really wanted a Seeker, you were happy to play the position when you got home. The letter had a curse in it, and it turned daddy's head into a giant snitch. It was so funny! Even daddy laughed after his head turned back to normal."

The little girl stopped speaking for awhile, but Harry had many more questions.

"What was Charlie like? I—I can't remember, you see."

"Quiet… Charlie was always in his books. He used to hug me tight. He'd surprise me or sneak up to me, and then catch me." She giggled. "But Chris and Mike pranked him all the time. He didn't like that much. Now it's me! They play jokes on me. I could curse them. But you said to me to be a good girl."

Harry furrowed his brow tightly as she continued.

"I've been very good, Harry, like you told me to. I haven't forgotten your words. Remember? You screamed them at me before you cursed me."

She was pulling his hair hard, almost tearing them from his scalp.

"Jessica…" This conversation was turning a little too scary for Harry. Obviously the girl was suffering. Harry carely pulled her fingers from his hair, before she ripped a whole tuft out.

A bright light engulfed the room. Jessica held a lit wand to her side. Harry backed away. Was this her vengeance now? He had already suffered his father's.

"How do you…?" Harry could not understand why such a young child knew magic so much. Would the Ministry of Magic swoop down and punish the child, and how on earth did she have access to a wand?

"Remus and Sirius have been teaching the young ones magic, don't you remember? The Ministry dropped the age after Hogwarts closed and everyone is taught at home. Sometimes we learn in groups with other kids from the Order. We have to… It's to prepare us for the bad things out there… Timothy Bracken learns magic now too and he's two years younger than me. But I'm better than him," she said smugly.

"Tell me more…"

"You really don't remember much, do you?" Jessica pouted. "Did they do really nasty things to you in Azkaban?"

"Yes," Harry lied.

"Mummy and daddy won't talk to me about it. But I heard stuff. I sometimes listen to them talking."

"Like what?"

Jessica shrugged in the light of the wand. He could see her face now, almost that of a ghost's, all white, and her eyes reflected his face like a magical mirror. She reminded him of the Grey Lady who stalked the castle late at night. She was always sobbing, her eerie sounds sticking to the walls like moss. Her eyes were white, her hair grey, waving like seaweed. She must have been beautiful in life. But in death she looked a shadow of a woman, ugly from hundreds of years wallowing in sorrow.

"I heard that the Aurors make the Dementors look like teddy bears. And the Atoners are the worst part of it all."

"Atoners?"

Jessica blinked at him. "You should know who they are."

"No I don't. I'm not the real Harry in this world. I'm from another world," Harry finally said.

Jessica smiled. "No you're not! I'm not stupid, I'm just blind. You're my Harry. I've heard people say that you're sick in the head from what they did to you in prison."

Harry was a little unnerved by such confidence in her statement.

"Sorry Jessica." Harry kept up the charade, desperate for more answers.

"…Do you remember when we played in the woods at the end of Godric's Hollow? All of us had a picnic and mummy and daddy were happy. They weren't fighting, or calling each other awful names! Charlie was alive and you were happy. We played a Muggle game called football or something where you can't touch a round spotted ball? We only stopped when Chris sprained his ankle. I got lost in the woods after that; I thought I'd never go home again, never see you all again.

"But you found me, Harry and you smiled. That was the last time you smiled," she said. "You took me back home. You never let go of my hand..."

Tears began to glisten in her wide pale eyes.

"You are the only one who ever liked me."

Harry watched the little girl blink slowly, tongue running over her large front teeth, that seemed a little too big for her small mouth.

"Jessica, mum and dad love you very much. They're just got a lot on their mind right now."

It felt very weird for Harry to tell her that. He loved his parents dearly, but at the same time, he still didn't know them. Watching Snape's memory in the Pensieve a couple of years before changed something in him. He was telling her something he could never remember about his parents, but their legacy runs through his veins: their love. That was one of the things he was sure about.

"You… you think so?" she asked, hoping.

Harry nodded, though he quickly stopped because it was painful to do so.

"But—but they don't love you. They hate you. Everyone does!"

"I did something very bad. They love you very much," he repeated.

Those words had an effect on Jessica, more than Harry could've imagined. She seemed to relax, her ghostly complexion warming a little.

"I'm sorry Harry, for everything. I'll continue to be good when you're gone."

This was it, he thought suddenly. All the thoughts of the little girl vanished and in came the possibility of dying. A heavy feeling entered his stomach of dread. It'll end quickly, he thought. He wasn't sure how experienced in spells the girl was. But the girl didn't do anything. And in any case what could she do? Instead Jessica dropped the lit wand by his side and stood up carefully, hands feeling the wall so she could balance properly.

"I saved your wand. Mummy kept it hidden from everyone."

The girl disappeared up the stairs. Leaving the door opened a touch, so that a streak of light showed the outline of it… like the light at the end of the tunnel, well sort of.

Harry then noticed that his heart was beating so hard, it was in danger of blasting out of his chest and bouncing onto the dusty floor. She left a wand for him. He could free himself and run. But where would he go? That would be something he'd have to put aside for now and take the plunge.

Harry's shaking hand reached out for the wand. It wasn't his wand, but it'll have to do for now. As soon as he had touched it, a strange buzz radiated from his fingertips, filling his chest and entire body. It was a bizarre feeling, like electricity rippling through flesh, though without the pain, but it made him feel pleasant. Harry was surprised and let out a small gasp. The wand connected with him and he was connected to it. It was nothing like he had experienced back in his own world.

The wand was made of yew. And he instinctively knew it was a Yew and Phoenix feather wand. Horror-struck, Harry suddenly dropped it, realising where he'd seen a wand just like it before. Question was, why was it _his_ wand?

* * *

"It's settled then," Dumbledore said around the table. "I'll send a message to everyone in the Order and tell them what's happened." He ran his fingers along Harry's wand. He seemed very interested in it, and James did not understand why.

"I still don't think this is right!" James said out loud, playing with his glass of firewhiskey. The ice within it had already melted.

Dumbledore observed him kindly. "We need time, James; time to decipher where the boy's loyalties lie and time to examine his agenda. We never had the time too. The last time I spoke with him was at the ministry after he'd been captured. I couldn't ask him everything in front of the Aurors. Also he'd been uncooperative.

"It is highly plausible that he's been damaged more than physically whilst in Azkaban. If he is broken, we may shape him into a good man again."

"THAT MONSTER WILL NEVER BE MY SON AGAIN!" James yelled, scraping his chair back, pointing his finger towards a happy portrait of Charlie sitting on top of a cabinet.

The black-haired boy waved to them all, wisdom twinkled in those hazel eyes, framing his round face. Charlie had had the worst sense of humour of all in the family, but even though he was the least like his parents, the boy was more like his Great Grandfather Harold, who had been a portly man, with the trademark knobbly knees of the Potters. He had had an immense library of old books in his house, all musty and worn out from being reread a hundred times.

He died when James was very young, though he could still remember sitting on his lap, listening to the rosy-cheeked old man read him stories of the Deathly Hallows or some other tale. He remembered the perfectly trimmed white walrus moustache, with only a hint of black still in it. His thick hair was completely white. Most of all, it was his raucous laugh James treasured. He could hear it now, ringing across the house like the man was still alive and living in their house.

He looked away from the smiling picture, afraid he might do something he'd regret.

Dumbledore didn't even blink. He sat calmly, unresponsive for a moment, waiting for James to let his emotion out.

Lily cried out, tugging James's robe sleeve. "_Sit down_!"

Dumbledore's moustache quivered as James sat, obeying his wife's command.

Lily huffed, "But, what if what he says is true? What if he _is_ a different Harry Potter…do you want to condemn an innocent boy-?"

"If he is innocent in whatever other realm this boy's from!" Arthur pointed out, patting his shiny forehead with a serviette. "But I still think they broke him badly. It is highly unlikely anyone could travel into a mirror universe. It is so rare…"

A clock chimed somewhere within the house, Dumbledore who still had the book which Harry had brought with him, placed it carefully beneath the table onto his lap. "I am almost completely sure that Harry has made this story up to gain sympathy in order to infiltrate our army. It is quite plausible that this is Voldemort's plan, otherwise another theory is that Harry is disillusioned.

Kingsley agreed. "Harry has been damaged. The last few reports I've had about him was that he was writing strange messages in blood on the walls of his cell."

"Oh God…" Lily whispered.

"Prisoners have died from gruesome injuries from unspeakable acts and violations in Azkaban. Others have gone completely insane, screaming themselves hoarse at the approach of an Atoner or Auror. In the most recent example, Umbridge had visited Azkaban, as she does once a week to feed her sadistic nature. A Death Eater complained to her about the amount of food given. He died in front of her, after they made him chew his own in-"

Lily placed her hands to her ears. "Please Kingsley, don't say anymore… I don't want to know! I don't want to know what happens there. I don't want to know what they've done to Harry." If she did, she would feel like a complete failure of a mother.

"They deserve what they get," Sirius spat, crossing his arms tightly.

"It may be so, but once the Aurors and Atoners act like Death Eaters, they're no better themselves, they don't hold morals to heart. Just because they're on the Light side, does not make them right in whatever action they choose fit," Remus spoke. "Otherwise then… there's no difference between good and evil."

The table went quiet, perhaps a little too quiet for comfort. Sirius stared out the little kitchen window, face motionless, until he bowed his head in reflection. Dumbledore nodded, and Lily squeezed her eyes shut and even Arthur looked resigned, though not James. He didn't care. He felt no sympathy to the misery Harry had suffered in Azkaban.

"Remus is right…" Kingsley spoke, his face clouding over to protect the emotions he really felt inside. "I've seen some of my men change, especially the new Aurors. They have good intentions, they really do. They want to do good, protect people, give everyone equal treatment. They slowly change once they've seen the corruption, the evil within the Ministry. They feel invincible, allowed to do anything. I also know that many of the men and women have lost wives, husbands, children, and other family in this war. They've all suffered, we've all suffered. It changes people."

Kingsley Shacklebolt was the only wizard in the room still firmly rooted within the Ministry and working within the Auror Department. His double life in the Order a well kept secret.

Dumbledore turned to Sirius. "Sirius, what do you say on this subject?"

"Question him, and then hand him over…" Sirius said softly, running a hand through his hair.

"I want him questioned first… but I'll agree in whatever action you think is best," Lily added, her eyes watery.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore said, tapping his long fingers on the table. "For now, let him rest." He got up, a sign that the meeting had ending. Everyone burst out into intense conversations between themselves.

"James, a word, please."

James nearly jumped a foot into the air.

Dumbledore placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, steering the grimacing man away from the small group. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine, Albus, really I am. I'm just…"

"Need to keep your head straight, more like. It's a shock, I know, seeing Harry back here."

James nodded. There were things he wanted to say and so much anger to let loose, that he thought it was wise to keep his mouth closed. Dumbledore understood this clearly.

"Sir, may I ask why Harry's wand is of interest to you?"

"Hmm, you may," he said. Dumbledore played with his beard, though never responding to James's question.

"Albus?"

"Oh! Dear me! Sorry James, I was lost in thought there for a moment."

"The wand?" James said, cocking up an eyebrow.

"I have my suspicions and only that at the moment."

James figured the old headmaster wouldn't answer, but he gave the question a go… "It's just stolen, isn't it?"

"Hmm yes. It could be. I just need to investigate this a little further before the wand becomes a closed case and we can return it to whomever it belonged to... if the person is still alive, of course."

"Do you need me—?"

'No," Dumbledore said straight out, maybe a little too firmly, which surprised James. "You have too much on your plate all ready worrying about your family's welfare and carrying out raids. This I feel, I need to do myself."

James felt a kinship with the headmaster at that very moment. Harry's betrayal and his evil had affected the old man so much. James knew how he felt, wanting to do things alone.

"I think you and Lily need a long night's rest. The others will guard Harry."

They walked slowly into the hallway, Dumbledore's hand still on his shoulder, conversing with comforting words, scared to let James go. Maybe scared wasn't the right word. Dumbledore was never scared, and if he were, he never showed it. No, he cared.

Dumbledore stopped talking; at least James had bolted out any sounds from penetrating his ears, because what his eyes foretold was more important at this point. They stopped moving, the both of them, standing near the basement door. It was wide open.

"What-?" James managed to say before Dumbledore's wand whipped out of his robe sleeve.

"NO!" Lily screamed behind them.

As though his brain started functioning again, James followed the old headmaster's step. His wand was out and at the ready but he felt totally numb. He felt this numb once before when he saw Charlie's body on the floor. The boy's hazel eyes wide open… hand still clutching his wand.

James was numb when he saw Jessica screaming in a corner, shaking and in shock… hands shielding her eyes, her wand broken, and a deep hole was punched into the wall next to her. And he was numb when he saw Harry standing in the shadow near Charlie's body. Wand pointing towards Jessica, panting… pale… blood pouring out of his nostrils.

He remembered that day like now. He was always head first into action, but when he saw his own children like that, something died within him.

Kingsley brushed past James, bolting halfway down the stairs. The room was completely empty; absolutely no sign of Harry anywhere. James took this signal to rush into action, he ran down the corridor and out the back door, which wasn't locked. They always locked it. Nobody was allowed out the house without his or Lily's permission. He bolted through the old door into the yard, past Charlie's grave and halted, not knowing which way to turn beyond the boundary of their property and the Fidelius Charm protecting them.

"HARRY POTTER!" he yelled into the foreboding darkness. The crescent moon cast an ominous glow along the treetops in the woods ahead.

Of course, nobody answered. Harry wasn't stupid. Only whisperings from the trees answered his call as the wind blew their leaves.

He was about to run into the woods, but Sirius stopped him. He felt the strong grip on his arm. James felt like his heart had ripped into two again. He ignored the presence of others behind him for awhile. Panting, feeling his hate well up again.

Sirius squatted along side him and cast a charm onto the ground, a white mist trailed along the grass and to the woods, which was a few hundred metres away. The white slithering mist then turned into a cool blue before disappearing behind trees.

The wizard sighed and looked up at James. "He's been gone a good hour. He'd be back with his master by now. I'll go after the trail anyway. We might get lucky." James failed to respond, and Sirius didn't press on.

He felt mocked and swore under his breath. Harry had escaped again. The old feeling of parental failure overwhelmed him again.

James turned around, and though Dumbledore was in shadow, he saw something in the old wizard's eyes that made him instantly furious. For a split second, Dumbledore looked happy, before resolve and determination took over.

"Send signals to the rest of the Order. We need a search party sent out now," Dumbledore commanded, before returning into the house.

**Please review :)**


	6. Fugitives

**Imprisoned Realm**

**Chapter 5**

**Fugitives**

Harry ran. He ran like he had never had before. He jumped and smashed his way through thickets of bush, small trees and cobwebs too. He didn't even turn back once to see if there was anyone following him. His cloak was flying behind him, ripping when it had snagged a branch. His hair stuck to his face as he dripped in sweat. His heart was pounding and a stitch stabbed at his side.

But Harry didn't care; he had no choice but to push on, getting as far away as possible. He didn't know where he was going, that fact was anywhere was good. He jumped over a log and continued on, glimpses of the moonlight peaking through the tree canopies, giving him light and a sense of direction. There was peace around in his the darkness, though the drumming of his heart reverberated in his ears, like seconds ticking away at a clock.

He jolted when his foot caught on something. He felt a sickening snap in his ankle and a rush of air around him. Harry momentarily flew through air, crashing back to the cold earth with a thud.

Harry stifled a yell, biting his lip, drawing blood as he clutched his ankle. "Shit!" he swore, rocking back and forth in excruciating pain. He looked at his ankle, it was already swelling to the size of a grapefruit, and he couldn't even move his toes.

"Episkey," he whispered, attempting the spell on his broken ankle.

The swelling subsided, but of course he knew it wouldn't heal the fracture. Harry was angry, he was scared, and he just wanted to go home. He fell back softly, fingers gripping tightly, trying to suppress the swelling and pain. Dry leaves and dirt was plastered on his face and he noticed a large crack in one lens of his glasses.

A wave of nausea overcame him, he turned over to retch. Though, nothing came up except liquid. His stomach had been empty for a couple of days, making the situation worse. Harry could do nothing, but lay down. He soon found that the cool ground calmed him a little as he regulated his breathing. He wondered why on earth they had not learnt any healing spells before!

With pain and frustration he sat up slowly, his world swaying like he was in a boat amongst the rough churning seas. Harry took a deep breath, willing the nausea away. He tested his ankle gingerly; it retaliated with sharp stabbing pains. There was no way he would get out of this one. He might as well turn back, turning himself in. Unless…

Harry turned his head, fingers fumbling along the damp soil, looking for a branch. He waved his new wand. With a new found calm, he mutely transfigured the branch into a broomstick and applied the necessary rudimentary charm to make it fly. His wand acted as though it had always been his. It was flawless and powerful, yet Harry felt tainted using this wand. It should have been Voldemort's. He drove that thought out of his mind for now.

He was good at Non-Verbals now. Wanting to fight Snape had given him a new determination to combat his failure at Occlumency and his under confidence at mastering Non-Verbal Spells. He did this in hope that when he meets Snape once more, the wizard wouldn't even know what hit him. Harry wanted to curse that smirk off Snape's face before he was done with him.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, his face scrunched up at the prospect of not ever being able to fight Snape, avenging Dumbledore's death and for aiding in the killings of Sirius and his parents.

Taking in a deep breath, he drove all thoughts not related to the present situation out of his mind. He grasped the nearly formed broomstick, and pealed his ears for any strange noises and voices. Except for the rustling of leaves, he heard no sign of the Order drawing closer.

"Right…" he said to himself, struggling to get up, holding the broomstick for leverage.

Harry stumbled; his foot throbbed with piercing pain as blood rushed towards it. He winced and instantly felt like collapsing. Then the flapping of wings nearby made Harry double the effort to stay awake and alert.

He looked around, trying to keep silent as he mounted his broomstick. He lifted off wobbly with one foot. It was a bumpy ride, lifting into the air. It felt like it was Harry's first time on the broom. It had been many months since he had ridden his Firebolt. How he wished it was with him now, gliding on it, feeling free and without burden.

This broomstick he had created was rough and crude, nothing like the finely crafted Firebolt which had been honed to perfection in speed, dynamics, even style. Harry thought MacGonagall would've had at least given him an Exceeds Expectation mark for it.

He was mostly amazed that it could fly, though it was very unsteady and couldn't go above a few metres. The transfigured broomstick would slowly drift towards the ground making Harry tug it upward every so often. He paced along and in silence, imagining that a snail would travel faster. Harry clutched it tightly nonetheless, while the wind whipped through his hair.

He travelled through the trees, ignoring the pain in his ankle; there was only silence around him and the occasional hoot of an owl or wolf in the distance. Harry had nothing to distract him but the constant fear of being caught, being tracked and that niggling panic of being trapped in some other world, chased by both sides. In amongst these tentacles of thought and feelings the question of the wand and this world's Harry would claw in his mind begging for attention. Harry would quickly swot them away.

The breeze changed direction an hour into the slow journey. He could hear the echoes of people behind. Harry swayed his broomstick around. Up in the hills, past the woods, he could see tiny flecks of light of a tracking party. They were searching for him.

Harry took this cue to land his broomstick and use it as a crutch to support his weight as he watched those tiny pinpricks of light grow nearer and nearer. He had never thought he would have had to escape his own family, in whatever world he'd venture into.

Gripping his wand, he Apparated.

He didn't care where he went as long as it was safe and he had a while to think of something to get back to his own world.

* * *

Dancing bright purple flames lit up the living room and a clock with the names of several Weasleys on intricately designed hands stood centrepiece on top of the mantle of the fireplace. All the Weasleys were of course pointed towards mortal peril, even though many were sitting quietly in the living room with the two Potter boys.

Ginny and Ron were laid out on the carpet playing wizard chess. Ron's heart was not in it, because Ginny kept beating him which was incredibly unusual. Twin brothers Fred and George were experimenting on a new joke item for their _Double Trouble Weasleys_ mail order store. They sat in a dark corner, keeping to themselves. Bill, who had recently returned from Egypt working for Gringotts, had brought back his Egyptian wife, Wadid. They all sat in the kitchen with their twin baby girls Miriam and Sarah. Both babies giggled and squealed as they played with their parents, unaware of the gloomy mood in the living room. Mrs Weasley troubled herself by cleaning everything in the house trice; her eyes flicking towards the Weasley clock, worried about her husband and children searching for the Death Eater.

Mrs Weasley had gotten word only a few hours ago that Harry Potter had escaped from the Potter's residence, forcing the Order to search for him. Mr Weasley, Charlie and Percy had joined the search party. However, she had managed to stop her other children from following.

Two auburn-haired boys sat on the couch staring at the fire. The Potter boys had hair darker in colour than the Weasleys, so it was easier to spot the outsiders. Their faces seemed to glow in the purple light, highlighting the contours of their faces, forming ghostly images.

The tallest and oldest boy was Michael, who wore oval rimmed glasses. He blinked, trying to keep his tired hazel coloured eyes opened. His arm was leisurely pulled over the side of the couch, fingers tearing a hole in the fabric absent-mindedly. He took a moment to gaze at his little brother Christopher who had sat beside him falling asleep. His mouth hung open. Michael was tempted to throw something in his gob, but thought it wise not to in the current mood.

Christopher didn't wear glasses and his hair was completely untameable, sticking up in all directions. He was also considerably shorter than any other normal twelve year old wizard. Then again, short stature was normal in their family until they hit late teens, and then it was like something switched on their growth gene to full steam ahead. Of course, it didn't stop Michael from teasing his baby brother every now and then: Midget and Mini Fur Ball amongst his vocabulary that would annoy his brother deeply.

"You all right there, Chris?" Michael asked loudly, smacking his brother awake.

The younger boy was startled awake, looking over his shoulders, looking for danger. "WHAT?"

"Really, Mike? Was that necessary?" Ginny spat as Michael suppressed a laugh. Ron merely snorted as he moved a pawn a square.

Christopher relaxed when he heard the boys around him sniggering. He crinkled his freckly nose, while his green eyes reflected the fire. "Scrawny prat!" he muttered, giving his brother a filthy look.

Michael stifled a yawn. "Are you all right?" he repeated

"Yeah I'm fine. You?"

"Fine too."

The younger boy sighed, rubbing his sleepy eyes. "…It's just…"

"What?" asked Michael, he was now genially concerned about his brother.

Whenever Christopher was worried or scared he would quieten and withdraw. Normally the twelve year old was funny and a happy go lucky sort of boy. They would always plan adventures together and prank everyone they met. In fact, they would often have bets Weasley twins. Always yearning the outsmart them.

Michael, Chris and their father James had been on a ski trip in the Alps when they had found out that Harry had broken into their home. Immediately, their father uprooted them and took them straight to the Weasleys while he handled the situation.

The entire day Chris wasn't his usual bubbly self, constantly fidgeting, losing his appetite and staring at his friends with caution. Michael had lost too many of his family and friends, so he felt extra protective of everyone now, especially his little brother.

"I hate not knowing… you know," the younger boy whispered, scratching his head.

Michael nodded, understanding completely how Christopher felt. They weren't the sort to sit back and let the news come their way. But now this was one of those times when they had to wait, and no matter how they kept pleading or sneakingly trying to discover some bit of information no one would give it to them.

Everything was going great until this happened.

Recently Christopher had almost been abducted by a band of Death Eaters prowling Godric's Hallow, it was a shock, but it was bound to happen. Their parents thought it would be good for them to get away from England for a bit. Christopher had suggested they do something Mugglish to get them away from the Wizarding World. Their father had agreed, saying it was a great idea.

So for two months they were enjoying their holiday. They had started off in the tropics. They had enjoyed the sun in Bali, then Fiji, and getting so burnt they almost glowed red. Then they had moved to the Swiss Alps, to a ski resort. They got fat on roast meals and luscious hot chocolates topped with heaps of marshmallows. They laughed when they landed on their arses on the ski field and even their father almost cried when he smacked into a tree cracking his ribs and skull. But mostly there was so much humour and fun. For many days, Michael completely forgot about the doom and gloom of home life and the constant threat of death and despair. It had been wonderful seeing the blue sky and the sun, the moon and the stars. England was rife with the Dementor mist. Many children had been born since the mist started without ever seeing the sky.

Now sadness bit them in the arse tenfold. It welcomed them back home.

"I can't believe he escaped!" Michael said out loud, his hands scrunching into fists. If he ever saw Harry ever again, he'd kill him. He wasn't as powerful as Harry, but Ginny taught him a wicked Bat Bogey Hex, that'll drive Harry off a window ledge.

"Me too!" Ron shook his head in disbelief. "How the hell did they get out of Azkaban?"

"He must have done a lap dance for Umbridge," Fred called over. Ron scowled at him. "The truth is I doubt we'd ever know!"

Ginny stood up from the chess game and stretched, she looked over Michael's way, catching his eye before turning away, smiling. She was good looking sort too, Michael thought. He knew that Harry had once had a crush on her, though she had rejected his advances quite a few times, if the rumours were true. This gave Michael great satisfaction. Good sense, that girl! Michael inwardly said.

He liked her brown eyes and the soft curves of her figure. Most of all, Michael liked it when her long red hair flowed behind her. Though, he wouldn't dare throw his advances toward her or try anything, not when Ron Weasley would be ready to pounce on any male attempting to whisk his sister away. Besides he was too young for her. He could only dream…

Ron was taller than Michael could possibly ever imagine being. The tall Weasley nearly reached the top of the doorway. He knew Harry better than even Chris and Michael. Harry and Ron had been inseparable growing up together during the summers and weekends, and then attending Hogwarts.

The only time the Weasleys and Potter kids did not see each other had been duing school days. While the Weasleys had been schooled at home, the Potter children had attended the local primary school until Hogwarts age, or at least until Hogwarts closed. The Weasleys were always interested in the Muggle things, and Michael and Chris were happy to oblige to teach them.

"Right you lot," Mrs Weasley said as she walked behind into the room, charming a large tray filled with cups of tea and scones to hover in front of her.

Bill and his wife walked in behind. Wadid, a Curse Breaker just like Bill, was an olive-skinned witch with grey almond-shaped eyes. Her thick hair was dark and held back with a blue sash. She held onto one of the baby twins, Sarah, fair skinned with blue eyes and black hair. Bill held onto Miriam, who was darker skinned with her mothers eyes. Both children were now sleeping, cradled in their parents arms. The little family sat down next to Michael and Christopher.

"They are shocking sleepers!" Wadid spoke in her thick Egyptian accent, as Sarah began to wake again.

"They know something's up," Bill said, rocking Miriam asleep.

"It'll be over soon." Mrs Weasley broke in, pouring tea into the china cups. "All right, dears?" she turned towards the boys, passing them the cups of tea.

"Yes, Mrs Weasley," Both boys replied, monotonously at the same time. Both pushed their fingers through their hair in frustration.

"You see there, George, you'd almost think they were twins."

George looked up as he munched on his scone and did a double take, "I thought they always were!"

Fred rolled his eyes. "So naive!"

"Shut up!" Chris said quietly, sipping his tea.

"Oh the poor Ickle Fur Ball—"

"Quiet all of you!" Mrs Weasley snapped at the end of her tether. Sarah and Miriam woke and began to cry at their voices.

Mrs Weasley was a plump kind-hearted woman, very motherly to anyone. Michael liked Mrs Weasley for her cooking. His own mum tended to overcook sometimes, so that the kitchen always smelt like something was burning, even though there might be nothing on the stove. But he did sometimes find Mrs Weasley overly fussy. She was quite suffocating in a way if they stayed in the house longer than a day.

Ginny and Ron sat down in the armchairs, looking a bit tired after their game of chess and perhaps because it was midnight. None of them had had any sleep yet.

Harry's betrayal hit Ron the hardest within the Weasleys. Ron couldn't believe that his best friend had been keeping such a devastating secret of being in league with the Dark Lord. 'I just can't believe it,' said Ron once. 'How could he be a Death Eater? He didn't even try to kill me off, and my family are all the biggest Blood Traitors that ever lived.' Michael had just shrugged. He didn't know what to say at the time. He had just lost his brother then, and his sister was badly injured. He was completely numb to the world around him and didn't care what other people thought.

Michael took the cup of tea Mrs Weasley offered him and said thank you softly.

"How long do you think the Order will keep Harry, before they give him up to the Aurors?" Ginny asked, nibbling on a scone.

Mrs Weasley straightened up; she looked a little reluctant to say anything at first. "I don't know much. It's best to ask your father when he arrives…" Mrs Weasley glared toward her daughter before suddenly changing the subject. "Boys you'll be sleeping here tonight, just to be on the safe side. You can bunk in Bill's room.

"But Mum!" Ron protested. "They—"

"No! I want everyone to sleep soundly! No more discussion about the war!"

After the rest of their supper, Michael and Christopher bade good night to the Weasleys and headed off to bed. They couldn't have a chat with Ron and Ginny alone, because Mrs Weasley made sure they weren't going to talk about Harry anymore, for the night.

"I wish they'd tell us something," Chris said, as he pulled off his shoes, jumping into bed. "Just because we're kids doesn't mean we should be kept in the dark. I mean, is it so hard for them to Floo in with a simple message?"

"Yeah… s'pose so." Michael magicked a cot out of a cupboard. He flicked his wand on a pile of linen to fly. They only fell into a heap onto the bed. He attempted some hospital corners, but gave up on his second try.

Chris watched on with one cocked eyebrow, his arms resting behind his head on his comfy pillow. "You're great with joke spells, but you suck at household stuff."

"Git!" Michael replied flinging himself onto the springy cot and throwing the blankets over him.

"How do you reckon Jess is coping?"

Michael sighed. "I don't know. I spoke to her last week… she keeps talking about Harry."

Ever since Harry had injured her, she had completely changed character. Jessica had once been a curious little sister, always following Harry around and occasionally Charlie as well. She loved to laugh and play with her dolls and pretend she was the greatest Auror in the world. Now, since the incident, she would stare at the wall with her white blind eyes, playing with her hair. She spoke in a way that made Michael so uncomfortable to be around her. She seemed so lost, almost dead inside. A walking shell of a wonderful sister he had once had.

"We're unfortunately related to Harry… so it should give us some right to know what's going on." Christopher yawned.

A dark thought crept into Michael's mind. "I hope he hasn't hurt anyone. Shit, if I ever see him again, I'm prepared! Harry would wish he finished us all that day… Bastard!" Michael whipped out his wand from his trouser pocket, placing it underneath his pillow.

Michael was fourteen and quite inexperienced when it came to defence. He only had a couple of more years before they'd let him join The Order of the Phoenix to fight. He now knew a lot of hexes and curses, and if he met Harry, at least Michael would die trying.

He fell asleep instantly, though his dreams were very troubled indeed, filled with green lights and evil cackles. Harry stood besides You Know Who, aiming his wand at Michael's chest, his mouth sculpting into the words of the deadly killing curse. Michael didn't have a chance to scream-

"Michael, Christopher, wake up."

Michael opened his eyes groggily, a stream of bright light fell through the curtains, and an annoying sparrow was twittering outside, somewhere. How could it be morning already when it felt as though he had only gone to sleep a minute ago? He saw his father's face swimming above him. "Dad?"

"Who else would I be?"

Michael placed his glasses on and propped up in bed, Chris was already pulling himself out of bed. "What happened? Where's Harry? Did anyone get hurt? And mum and Jess?"

"Slow down, I don't have two mouths," said James, sitting down on the edge of the bed. His hair seemed to droop today. "He's…"

"Yeah go on… they caught him right?" piped up Christopher.

"Yes," James hesitated, ruffling his youngest son's hair. "No!"

"DAMN IT!" Michael yelled.

"Did any—"

"No, no one got hurt," James quickly added, "He disappeared silently."

Michael was relieved to hear those words at least. "Do you know why he was there? Was he there to kill us?"

"Hmmm… Look I think Azkaban made him a bit unstable. Anyway, we'll find him, boys. And he'll be put in Azkaban where he belongs." James's face remained passive, hiding hatred and betrayal. He seemed overtired. "Come on, we're going home now, everything's secured."

"But how—?" Chris started.

"I'll explain everything we know when we get home." He got up and left the boys to get dressed quickly.

Michael was mad. How the hell could his brother escape again? Dumbledore himself, made sure the entire place had the most advanced charms and enchantments protecting it. Oh how Michael wanted to find his big brother and make him pay. They weren't going to suffer because of him. Not any more.

* * *

When Harry woke up, there were a few things which bothered him. For one, there was a moment where he wondered why he was sleeping inside a small damp cave. Shouldn't he be asleep in a tent with his friends? Second of all, his ankle was stiff and swollen and was very painful. Moreover, he couldn't remember what had happened the night before.

He sat up, leaning against the rocky wall, a furrow forming between his brow, as he tried with all his might to remember. For a brief moment, there was a flutter in his chest. Perhaps all this had been a dream and he had always been in Rowena Ravenclaw's crevice. Maybe a curse had forced into an enchanted sleep.

Then of course, as he looked around and listened vaguely to water drops falling nearby, he did finally remember. That hopeful flutter was quickly replaced by a hot sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Harry groaned and ran his hands through his hair. While his stomach chorused with a series of rumbles, he rummaged through his pockets, finding nothing but a wrinkly rotting mushroom. He wouldn't otherwise have eaten something that had been stuck in his pocket for a while, but times were tough now. He bit into the foul tasting fungi, and prayed that he wouldn't get food poisoning.

He tested his ankle, prodding it with his wand so the swelling would subside again. He didn't know how long he could go on with his injury. _Episkey_ wasn't a spell to mend bones, just broken noses.

Harry pulled his wand put from hid jeans pocket and decided to have a closer inspection of it. The wood was smooth and well polished. He ran the facts inside his head: Yew and Phoenix feather. Voldemort's wand was thirteen and a half inches long. It was exactly the same, nothing out of place. It still troubled him that he had this wand combination. He felt lost without his old wand, but he was a little bit curious with this new one too, which did not rightfully belong to him anyway. He vaguely pondered on the different history of this world.

What had he learnt so far besides being the owner of the wand Voldemort should've had? Harry ran the facts through his head: Hogwarts was closed. Underage children could use magic and learnt magic at home. He was an escaped convict. A powerful Death Eater. He had brothers and a sister. He killed his own brother…

A rock fell somewhere in the cave, and Harry straightened up, wand pointing towards the opening. "Who's there?" He had a feeling that he wasn't alone anymore. No one answered. Harry didn't turn away. It was a minute before he relaxed his wand arm, but still suspicious. He was deadly alert now.

To his side, he had located the transfigured broomstick. It was looking more like a dry branch now; the magic wearing off. However, this would be remedied. He would wait til dark to travel again and find a new place to hide, perhaps even get his ankle fixed, somehow.

Harry suddenly heard a noise that sounded like fabric rustling. He raised his wand, and it ignited.

"Show yourself!" shouted Harry. Pulling himself up, without hurting his ankle, he could see the outside of a figure camouflaged to look like the rocky wall. "Go on… show yourself," he demanded forcibly.

The figure stepped forward and the spell disappeared, like they had poured a bucket of water over their head to wash the charm away. The smirking pallid and thin face of the other Harry Potter stood in front of him.

The boy was emaciated, wearing rugged robes, and his hair was long and dirty. It was much longer than Harry's. They were exactly the same height. This world's Harry did not wear glasses, and his green eyes shone darkly, masked by dark circles.

Harry gaped, gripping the wall in shock and disbelief, all thought of his broken ankle in the back of his head now.

"Well… this certainly is interesting…" the evil Harry said, an eyebrow disappearing beneath his fringe. His eyes scanned every inch of Harry, making him feel more vulnerable. The Death Eater did not attempt to hide his surprise and curiosity.

Harry was stunned beyond movement as he faced himself. It was as though he was staring into a mirror.


	7. Doppleganger

**Chapter 6**

**Doppelganger**

Gaining some sense, Harry stumbled back, feeling the grit of the sandstone graze his hands.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked before he could stop himself. But Harry already knew the answer, wishing it weren't true. He was facing a despicable version of himself and he didn't like it and him, one bit.

"I was just about to say the exact same thing."

The doppelganger moved forward a step and as he did so, Harry raised his wand further up.

The boy froze; he was alert and cautiously staring at the wand. Then his mouth curved into a malicious smile. "That's my wand. Why do you have my wand?" His voice was smooth and polite, like he was asking a child for a sweet, only to end up snatching them when refused one.

Harry didn't look at it. It was his only line of defence and he wasn't about to give it up to a convicted murderer without a fight.

The Death Eater swept his long matted hair from his face, surveying the wand with hungry eyes. This world's Harry had grown a very sparse fuzzy beard, and his lips were parched and covered with sores. His knuckles were skinned, while old blood was caked beneath his fingernails. The thin frayed robes he wore fell off his bony shoulders. On his emaciated wrists, Harry could see that they were raw and cut, like he had been chained for a very long time. Harry wondered if this Harry had ever saw sunshine, he looked more like a vampire than anything with his pale translucent skin.

It felt surreal staring at himself, Harry thought. It was as though he was looking into a mirror. It was a startling mirror of truths in a way, dictating poetically of how his life could've been if fate had changed just a few little things. They looked exactly alike, right down to their long period of starvation and ruggedness. The only differences were the fact that he did not wear glasses or have a lightning bolt scar.

"So… who are you?" the Death Eater asked

Harry did not answer. The doppelganger smirked, nodding his head a little, as he formulated ideas.

"You're either a very badly Polyjuiced Auror or a very stupid Order member. So which one are you?"

"How did you escape?"

Harry remained passive, and if he was correct, his other self was trying to see inside his head for answers, so he doubled his efforts with Occlumency, even though he was still very bad at it.

What surprised him in that very instant the most, was how easy it was to implement Occlumency. For the very first time, it had really worked, startling him.

"Ah, well, not as stupid as I thought," the Death Eater said, looking away from Harry's eyes, as though he had given up his plight with Legilimency. He sat down on a rock, a slight look of pain resting on his face as he stretched his back and arms.

Harry took this gesture as a sign of appease, however, he still had his wand taught against the Azkaban-stricken Harry.

"Very interesting…" the Death Eater said to himself. Then he looked up. "You still haven't answered my questions."

"Neither have you." Harry didn't move from his spot. He stayed as far as possible from his other self. He couldn't move anyway, not without hurting his ankle.

"Well, I'm Harry Potter," the boy drawled, rolling his eyes. "Almost every wizard, witch, being and creature has heard of me."

No differences there, Harry thought to himself. "All for the wrong reasons, I presume."

The doppelganger snorted at the comment, eyes still trained on him, hooked on his every move lest Harry should attack. "And you… you look… exactly like me, except you seem weaker and you're wearing glasses… but it's a style I wouldn't have chosen. I haven't worn glasses for awhile." He furrowed. "A very good disguise, nonetheless…"

"What? No!" Harry said. He was a little put off by the description of himself. "No, I'm not a Polyjuiced wizard. I'm not anyone in disguise. I'm me… I'm from…" Harry stopped.

The other raised an eyebrow. "If you are neither an Auror nor an Order member, and you look like me – then who are you?" He took a moment to ponder, an expression of interest and disbelief washing over his face. "You're me from another- another world, a Mirror Universe, aren't you? Very rare!" There was excitement in his worn features.

Harry didn't answer; he felt a foreboding feeling about this. This Harry was so decrepit looking, indecent, with an air of carelessness and fearlessness and dark power. Somehow this intrigued him.

"Oh come on!" The doppelganger smiled, revealing a missing tooth. "Had you been sent here by accident or by someone? Bet you it was that stupid old fool!"

Harry winced at his other self. Every time he thought of Dumbledore he had a pang of grief and anger.

"Hmmm, perhaps not," he thought out loud, now picking at a sore on his tip with his dirty fingernails. "No. We cannot pluck a person from another dimension into our own. You are usually pushed out, by a force in your own world," the Death Eater pondered.

His tone and knowledge reminded Harry of Hermione. A feeling of loss flooded his heart. Oh how he wished Hermione was with him now. And Ron too…

"… And accidents are possible, but highly unlikely. It's very difficult to create a barrier between worlds, even by accident."

Harry's stomach made an unpleasant jolt. If that was the case, then Rowena Ravenclaw had been a truly gifted witch. The question now was how was he going to get back?

"So Mirror-Harry, what's your opinion, then?"

Harry remained quiet, still contemplating the fact that Rowena Ravenclaw had created many portals with the books he had seen into Mirror Worlds. He remembered that there were many floating around, but only one had gravitated towards him. Perhaps like a wand, the Mirror World had chosen him. Harry suddenly wondered if Ravenclaw was laughing in her grave, as she purposely sent unsuspecting, curious visitors into other worlds never to return. Had it been her little trap, or was it a way for Ravenclaw to allow people to explore the possibilities of fate? Had she, herself, once explored these worlds?

"…If you don't answer, I can make you." Death Eater Harry stood up to full height, an air of impatience in his voice now. "I can hurt you."

Harry raised his wand a little more. An eerie familiarity prompted Harry to think that this person was like Tom Riddle. It made him feel very uneasy.

"Just like you hurt Jessica and Charlie? Harry hissed. It felt bizarre talking about strangers, but the effect of those words was amazing.

The other Harry's eyes widened. "Don't you _ever_ talk about them!"

"Why, does it bring back bad memories?" Harry went on bravely. He made up his mind on this spot; this boy was as evil as they talked about. He felt ashamed and disgusted that this could be him in another universe.

"I don't like you," the doppelganger spat, eyes still on the wand. "I want my wand back."

"Why should I give it to you?" Harry held his panic back. "I thought you could do wandless, or has Azkaban—"

"ENOUGH! DON'T TALK ABOUT THAT PLACE!" The boy was breathing heavily now, hands curled into fists as he looked back and fro from Harry and the wand. "You leave that place out of this conversation…"

"Oh, did they hurt you? Well guess what, I won't give you your wand back," Harry said softly.

The other smiled his Adam's apple bobbling up and down under silent laughter. "You're a weakling… you're nothing like me, Harry. I've followed you here last night. You looked deadly curious, but you're not so interesting anymore, you're just a nobody here."

He waved his hand suddenly, and before Harry could even flick his wand, a Protego shield ignited enclosing him in a golden sphere.

"What?" the doppelganger said in surprise.

_Stupefy_, Harry thought savagely, a little stunned with the Protego shield which he had mastered without his wand. It had just happened with a mere thought, with instinct. The other Harry dodged the spell, Disapparating on the spot, appearing right behind him.

Before Harry could return fire he was knocked cleanly off his feet, hitting the other end of the cave, where the dark was thick and the air humid. He lay dizzily on the ground, his ankle in excruciating pain now. His face was screwed up in agony and only managed to open his eyes when he heard someone or something creeping to his side. He could see a pair of dirty bloodied feet, the robes flattering around raw ankles. The other boy knelt down slowly, and Harry turned his attention to the untamed face of himself.

"Where are you from? How did it happen?"

Harry ignored these questions, his mind still on his ankle.

"Perhaps… if you tell me… I can help you get back home."

Harry gave a great shout of laughter. "As if you would help me. I don't trust anyone here and most of all _you_!"

The doppelganger looked slightly thrown back by those words. He's look quickly changed as he became angered, but before Harry could understand this expression the boy looked away, defiant to keep his secrets hidden.

"Fine." He clicked his dirty fingers. "I want my wand. I'll get it off of you even if I have to kill you for it."

"You don't need it," Harry said in a strained voice.

"You don't need it either…"

It took a moment to realise what those words meant; Harry thought about this for a second, as his fingers tightened their grip on the wand, while the other Harry still preyed for it.

He didn't know or yet even knew he could master magic without wands, so why all of a sudden could he? In his own world such magic was rare, and hushed about. It wasn't something that one would boast about, like Parseltongue. Professor Binns, their History teaching ghost, had mentioned it a few times in his monotonous lectures throughout the years. Harry had barely heard anything more than that Mages were rare, or died soon after they newfound ability because of their unrestrained power, or had used Dark Magic to obtain it, and paid for it with their lives.

"You see Mirror-Harry, when you enter a different world you begin to change into your Mirrored self the longer you stay. Sometimes it is for better or perhaps for the worst. You develop new skills you never knew you had and maybe even lose some. I'm you and you are me when we are in the same place."

Horror engulfed Harry. He would never be this other person. He couldn't imagine himself taking on his powers and skills, and most of all his evil. But his hunger for answers kept him hooked to the Death Eater's words and he listened attentively.

"… Muggles seem to think we die if we meet your Mirrored self. It's not true; in fact, we begin to feed off each other when we are so close like this. We can become stronger… our hidden potential, once seedlings spark to life and starts to grow and thrive," he said, his dead eyes now with an inkling of life. "It's really fascinating… though there is only one example of this ever happening in the past, and my information only stems from that source…

"Who?" Harry blurted out. "Do you know who else?"

"Not really, it is so vague, that it almost isn't history at all. It's a myth more like. She was a witch. She did not stay long. That is all that I know."

Harry straightened up. If he knew a little more about it then maybe he could find a way back home. "How did she get back?"

"I have no _fucking_ clue, of course." The Death Eater snapped. "Didn't I just say that the history is vague? Where was I… oh yes, the feeding of powers... So of course, myth soon weaves its way into fact. The effect would work in theory if you time turn and your older wiser self could help your younger self, but of course, bad stuff happens all the time to prevent that, just like I considered killing you."

"I'm not a murderer," Harry said.

The doppelganger smirked. "You are now." After a moment of consideration he stood up. "You can keep my wand Harry, keep it safe. I don't like people touching my things. You can be the only exception."

His was capricious; this boy was more enigmatic and unpredictable than Harry could've possibly dreamt of being.

"Oh and…" he turned around, his green eyes dark now. Harry could feel the power seeping off the boy. "Keep away from me, Mirror-Harry. If I ever see you again, I won't be as kind."

With a small crack the boy disappeared leaving Harry on his back with a buzz of disbelief at what had just happened. His mind was still reeling over this. He was lucky to even be alive. This evil Harry was dark, a confirmed Death Eater, yes, but wise, independent and even slightly mad. He was James and Sirius and Voldemort mixed into a single entity. And top that all off, Harry was amazed and a little frightened that he really was a Mage.

Harry suddenly became aware that his ankle wasn't painful anymore. He propped up onto his elbows and gingerly tested it. It was healed. The Mirror Harry healed him. What a strange gesture, Harry thought.

Harry fell back gently and stared at the dark cave ceiling where Stalagmites and Stalactites were at the point of touching each other. There was a time in the past where he wondered what the differences between the two were, but that was when he was still innocent and ignorant of the world around him. Now he felt like he'd never be just normal Harry ever again.

* * *

Remus pulled out his old quill, the hawk-feather brushing against his stabled face. He leaned back against his chair and quietly observed Lily and James's little girl read brail. It looked like she was reading, but she wasn't. Remus could tell when she was concentrating on her work or not, by the little crease that appeared on her brow.

"Jessica."

She blinked several times before staring at the spot Remus sat. "Yes?"

"You're not doing your work."

The girl opened her mouth in protest then thought better, bowed her head and said something which Remus couldn't hear.

"Best put your mind to rest."

"I know," she said, her voice soft, like a little squeaking mouse. "Remus, do you think Harry will die?"

Remus sighed; he wasn't expecting a child to come out with such a question like that. "I… I don't know."

The girl nodded. "I miss him." She was so forlorn and her limp black hair trailed over the book she had been reading like seaweeds washed onto rocks.

"We all do, Jess. But people change."

She looked up, "I don't think he changed at all. I - I think other people have."

What a strange observation, thought Remus. "What makes you say that?"

She shrugged her little shoulders. "I don't know. I hate this war. I hate this place. I hate not being a family anymore."

* * *

The afternoon sun glowed lovingly into the yard as Lily watched from the house, her two boys sitting on an old wooden bench; they were discussing yesterday's events on their own. She, James, Remus and Sirius had sat down with them and explained what had happened from beginning to end.

She could see how differently they both reacted to their brother showing up. They were growing up to fast, she thought. Michael had looked furious, his body tensed with hatred. Lily feared the boy would do something as rash as James would've done in his younger years. Christopher had been angry, yet saddened and withdrawn, shaking his head at the end of the conversation, and Jessica, Lily worried for her most of all. My poor little girl, she thought. She lived in her own little world these days.

Her little girl never played with her dolls anymore, she'd sit by the window playing with her hair. Once in a while the girl would talk to herself as though she was playing with an imaginary friend. Lily had had imaginary friends at that young age, but she'd throw tea parties in their honour. Jessica didn't. The girl would stare ahead asking her friend if she liked kittens, and that's all they ever talked about: cats, particularly Harry's own, which had died the year before he killed Charlie.

Michael had just thrown a pebble across the yard, hitting a wayward gnome in the face. The gnome kneeled over and disappeared into the long swaying grass. Christopher's laugh pounded into the house, made Lily's heart warm, despite the cruelty to the creature.

The yard was so overgrown and weedy but it was just the way Lily liked it best. She had seen her sister Petunia's lawn and house once before and felt like she didn't belong there. Well, the fact that the Dursleys had looked at her and James with disdain and revulsion added Lily's dislike for anything perfectly manicured and groomed. No, she liked the yard just the way it was, lovely, natural, filled with wonders.

When the children were younger, it had been a joy watching them play hide and seek in the garden. Sometimes she watched for hours on end, from the very window she now watched her boys. The nooks and crannies of the yard were perfect spots to hide, and Harry would always be best at hiding. It would be dark before Lily would shout for him, tell him he'd miss dinner and desert, and that his brothers Charlie and Michael were missing him. Skinny little Harry would rush out of a dark obscure spot, his knobbly knees all skinned and dirty, wearing glasses too big for his face. He would bound onto the stairs and hug Lily around her middle, smiling.

"Did you miss me too, Mummy?" He'd ask her every time, his green eyes bright and shining with love.

She'd kiss him on his forehead. "Of course I did, you're my special little wizard." She'd tickle him and he'd laugh so much that he'd beg for her to stop.

Lily sighed, letting the curtains fall. She had wondered from time to time what life would've been like if Charlie was still alive and Harry had not betrayed them so horrifically. She wondered how normal a child Jessica would be if she were not blind.

Why did her oldest change so drastically? She just couldn't understand why he had turned so bad. What made a once loving and wise child turn? She would've died protecting her baby boy if Voldemort had gone for them instead of the Longbottoms. Lily would've died to give Harry the chance of living a good and humble life.

Never in a million years did Lily dream of this happening to their family. Now she felt like she was an evil mother, for thinking that perhaps, it would've been for the best if Voldemort had gone for Harry, even if it had killed them all.

Voldemort would kill Harry eventually. That fate awaited him, Lily knew with dread. The Dark Lord hadn't forgotten the fact her boy was a part of the prophecy, just because little Neville had died. Voldemort lured Harry to the Dark Side so he could watch over him closely. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, they say.

Now the question would be, how long? How long until another child of hers will be taken forever? Children were abducted and killed every day in the war. Muggle Children and adults would be taken and made into slaves for the amusement of Death Eaters, but when will her oldest be killed?

Lily chocked back tears.

They were lucky that Christopher had been saved by Dumbledore and James in late January. He had almost been snatched by swarming Death Eaters in Godric's Hallow. It had been a stupid adventure to trick a rude Muggle neighbour of theirs. It was a silly dare on Michael's part, to coax his brother out onto the street and out of the protection. As soon as they had stepped out of the boundaries of wards and enchantments without their parents, they became vulnerable to Voldemort and his army. Lily could not bear to think anymore of the consequences.

"Lily," James spoke behind her.

She was glad of the sudden distraction. She wiped her tears quickly and smiled. "Yes?"

James and the search party had returned in the early hours of the morning. He had barely had any sleep before they resumed the futile search for their son, giving up after lunch.

"Remus is tutoring Jessica with Defence spells. He'll call for the boys later on. He says they're slacking in their homework, spending more time pranking their friends than transfiguring spoons into mice."

"Great, they're like you and Sirius but ten times worse." Lily rolled her eyes.

James clucked his tongue, "Ow! You say it like you're sooooo disappointed," he mocked. "I've put dinner on the stove."

Whenever James joked, it almost felt as though the tragedy never happened.

Lily felt warm hands rub the nape of her neck, before curling around her shoulders. She instantly tensed up. She had not felt his warmth and touch for many months, in fact for almost a year. Lily now found it strange, almost annoying and claustrophobic.

"Is everything all right?"

She could tell that James knew that cracks were beginning to appear in their relationship. It began with a tiny one with Charlie's passing, but as the year had wore on, bigger ones branched out.

Lily snorted. Nothing was 'all right' in truth. "Wish it was." She moved away from him. "I'm just trying to make sense of this all."

James didn't say anything. He crossed his arms and leant against the wall. "So am I."

"His wand is missing," Lily said, repositioning a portrait of Charlie on a shelf.

"We know."

"If he found it before escaping why wouldn't he try to kill us?"

"The boy isn't stupid. He's not going snuff us in front of Dumbledore." James sighed, his arms slacking to his side. "I want to know what Dumbledore is up to. Harry escaped our clutches. The boy's more trouble than we thought he was."

Lily closed her eyes. "You should ask him."

"Ha! As if I haven't tried already. You should've seen him when we found out Harry escaped the basement. He looked happy."

"Happy?" Lily repeated, a little confused by those words. Why would have Dumbledore been thrilled that Harry had done a runner? After all Dumbledore had felt immense betrayal at what the boy had done to their family.

"I'm telling you… something fishy is going on and I'm not talking about the trout that's cooling on the grill."

"Hmmm, maybe you misinterpreted the expression," Lily said, interested. The old man was probably planning on something to recapture their son.

Lily narrowed her eyes, thinking about James nearly strangling Harry. She had never seen her husband react so viciously to their own children, let alone to complete strangers. James had never reacted so badly to Snape in their school days either. He also hadn't reacted like that to other Death Eaters, especially those who had harmed friends and children.

"I know what I saw!" James snapped. "And don't treat me like a child!"

"It's hard not to when you _are _acting like one," Lily bit back. "I don't ever want to see you act like you did towards Harry, James. You almost killed him."

The suspicious expression on James's face instantly turned into one of rebuttal. "Christ's sake, Lily, do you hear yourself? Harry isn't my son anymore! I've disowned him. He killed Charlie; he was going to kill us all for some stupid group. I'll do anything to bring him to justice."

"What if he was forced—?" She was really grasping for an idea in the dark. It was idea which had been locked away in her mind. She had been reminiscing about Harry as a child, and all the feelings of love and happiness overcame her. She was grasping for that broken notion of happiness and nostalgia. How deceiving it was to cause her to bring up doubts about her son she had quashed a many months before.

"Forced to kill?" James laughed, "no Lily, he did it very willingly. When Dumbledore saw him in Azkaban after Christopher was almost abducted, Harry told him that Chris and Mike would be next, and then Jess and he'd make sure we'd watch. He had said all this with a smile on his face."

Lily covered her mouth, she felt instantly sick. "I didn't- why didn't you tell me?" She sat on the window ledge. "You're supposed to tell me everything, James!"

"I didn't want you to worry too much about the kids and me. It was only hours after they attempted Chris's abduction. Dumbledore wanted to know if Harry had known anything about it, or if the attack had been random."

"It doesn't matter James, I can handle anything that happens."

"I was protecting you."

_Protection,_ Lily hated that word now. She was not a child; she was great at charms and Defence Spells and capable of handling the most gruesome news, in fact she had also seen some gruesome things. "I don't need protecting James, I'm not helpless."

"I know… Sorry, I don't think sometimes." He ran his agitated fingers roughly through his hair.

"Yes, I've noticed. I've noticed that ever since Hogwarts." Lily crossed her arms in disgust.

James ignored that comment and moved by his wife to open the window. He checked his watch. "It should be time for the afternoon edition."

Lily didn't like it when her husband changed a subject. He was avoiding the issues she really wanted to talk about and it had been happening far more often than it used to. He kept her out of the most important decisions and didn't include her in conversations with others.

Low and behold on the now pink and gold horizon, there was an owl approaching. Lily and James remained in silence, feeling the chilly breeze touch their faces. Minutes later the owl landed on the ledge. It was a rather beautiful snowy white owl. She hooted softly and poked out her foot, where attached, was a rolled up copy of The Daily Prophet.

James threw a Knut and the owl caught it in her beak.

"James," Lily clucked, placing the Knut into the little pouch tied around the owl's other leg. The owl thanked her with a gentle nip. "Honestly, she could've swallowed it."

But James wasn't paying attention. "Ha!" he said.

Lily looked away from the white owl flying in the distance now. "What."

"Remember how there was a lot of commotion in Europe last year; Muggle disasters, which weren't suspicious enough for the Ministries to investigate? Well Dumbledore mentioned he was going to keep a close watch on it. And then all those Deathly Hallows murders of Death Eaters?

"What of it?"

"It's definitely Grindelwald! He's escaped and gaining power again." James's eyes blazed with excitment.

Lily's jaw dropped. "But Dumbledore defeated him!" She snatched the evening paper from her husband's hands. "And since when does the Prophet tell the truth?"

_A New Terror Unfolds_ read the headline blazoned on the front page.

James raised his eyebrows. "Ahh! Defeated, not killed. I don't know much of the story, I've never asked Dumbledore, but Char—" James took in a deep breath, "Charlie had once said, he was incarcerated somewhere in some obscure prison, powers gone, damaged. Besides Dumbledore's a noble man, he'd never kill."

"Well," Lily said, feeling slightly defeated. "Great! That's all we need, another disillusioned Dark Lord running mayhem and destruction."

She stared at a very old archival picture of a blonde haired man with a long goatee. He was wearing elaborate robes. The pale grimacing man had finely sculpted cheek bones. He was handsome, but his light grey eyes were so cold, it made Lily's skin crawl. She wondered what he was up to, after all these years in exile. She suddenly smiled to herself, James noticed.

"What?" he asked, suspiciously.

Lily straightened her face. "You-Know-Who won't be happy."

* * *

Weeks after Grindelwald had finally been revealed by The Daily Prophet, there was a loud knock that echoed throughout the dark residence belonging to Severus Snape. The little town house at Spinner's End was not accustomed to visitors, so this commotion was very strange indeed.

Snape folded the Prophet he had been reading. Today's front page had a picture of the Deathly Hallows symbol and the heading: _A Mark of the New Terror._

The Dark Lord seemed to be cast momentarily aside for this Grindelwald, who was slowly unfurling his claws in Britain. The Dark Lord was furious, almost manic, summoning his Death Eaters every day to discuss Grindelwald and his next plan of action. Confusion ran rife within the ranks. Wizards were worried and Muggles were noticing more strange things, more than they were accustomed too over the last twenty-eight years.

The knock grew more frequent and frantic. He placed the paper casually onto the coffee table and made his way to the front door. Gripping his wand, he stretched his fingers and softly shifted the curtains. None of the spells placed on the door had alarmed, so the stranger was not an enemy to him.

Snape witnessed a hooded figure on the porch panting and wheezing for breath. He clutched his mid region, as though he had a nasty stitch. The stranger looked left and right, suspicious of everything that moved. He knocked again, a little harder. He was impatient to get inside and away from danger.

Snape opened the door, glaring at the huddled figure. He narrowed his eyes from beneath the curtain of greasy hair and viciously smirked at the mass he stood over.

"Well, well, well… look at what the pixies dragged here," he said with great pleasure. "Azkaban not good enough for an arrogant twat like you?"

The hood fell off the boy's head, revealing his untamed emaciated face of Harry Potter. "Shut up, Snivellus!" the boy spat.

Snape's flashed his black eyes and slammed the door shut into the boy's face, almost knocking him over

Potter yelled in frustration. "This isn't funny, Snape!" he shouted, sounding desperate. "I've been hiding out for weeks… I need—"

Oh how this thrilled Severus Snape, to have the boy hooked around his little finger. He door opened again with a creak, he watched the boy give one last look at the world around him, before he walked into the darkness of the hallway.

**Please review**


	8. Agenda

**Chapter 7**

**Agenda**

_A few months earlier._

Along black water a boat rowed without the aid of oars. A small candle hovered in front of it in a silent vigil. It was the only light to guide the two figures in the dingy, through the cavernous darkness. At the back of the boat, an old man with a long beard and travelling cloak sat. He looked ahead with his twinkling blue eyes, as the top of his glittering hat now grazed the low cave ceiling. While at the front, a wheezing hunchbacked hag, wearing tattered robes grasped the sides of the boat. She didn't seem too keen on water and boats and looked very green. Her face glistened with a cold sweat.

The dingy rocked with each invisible stroke, and the smell of something rotting mingled with fresh moss and stagnant water filled their nostrils. Dumbledore pulled out a tiny silver vinaigrette box and held it to his nose, smelling the lavender and rose to take the edge off the odours.

The air in the cave was stale and so hot that sweat formed on Dumbledore's forehead. To pass the time in the uncomfortable conditions, he hummed to himself. However, the humming did not drown the distant screams, the clink of chains, or the sharp snap of a whip that echoed down the rocky tunnel.

The hag wheezed a little louder as they approached the rocky bank, the ceiling above them gaining height as they got nearer. Dumbledore thought whether or not the hag would stop breathing before he even had a chance to get out of the boat.

"We're 'ere," the hag said in a hoarse foreign accent, coughing as she struggled out of the dingy. Her robes dipped into the water as she crawled on to the shore, finally glad to touch land.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore with a hiss. "I trust Dementors do not exist here."

The hag's eyes moved timidly. "Dose foul beazts? No zir, most migrated to your country, zir."

"Certainly," Dumbledore said with displeasure.

He sighed and got out of the boat, while the hag tied it up to a rusted peg.

The candle that had hovered in front of the dingy now bobbed along in midair, leading their way into a more lighted cavity of the cave, where the air was even more putrid and hard to breathe within.

Dumbledore looked up and saw arched windows carved into the yellow stone. He distinctly thought of Swiss cheese. Orange light, yellow, white and some blue or purple shone out of the windows, making them look like giant Christmas lights. Dumbledore would've smiled, perhaps even made a comment about this, but this place was anything but happy and fun.

"Zir… tis way, zir," the hag croaked, pointing towards a large crack in the cave. Dumbledore followed.

The noise of a few bats squeaking and flapping their wings filled the pathway of an ancient spiral staircase, the stairs worn from hundreds of years of use. They were sticky with blood, so it seemed. Dumbledore stopped short of the first step. With a raise of his bushy white eyebrow, he looked at the hag.

"Prisoner tried to escape las' nigh'." She shrugged, as though bloodied stairs were a normal occurrence in this God forsaken place.

Dumbledore let the hag climb first before he hitched up his robes, following behind her. The stairway was so cramped, that the hag had trouble fitting through. Dumbledore had to give her a bit of a nudge to hurry his expedition. He had already been the unfortunate victim of seven bat droppings and did not wish to acquire some more.

The screams grew louder as they approached the first landing. As Dumbledore climbed the last step, he observed his surroundings; wrought iron bars stood place everywhere, chains snaked on the slimy ground or walls, and the flicking dim light was cold and uninviting. There was also a tang of blood in the air. The humidly made the trip even more unpleasant. The old wizard crinkled his nose, and waited for the hag to wobble alongside him. The journey up the stairs made her clutch her chest to the point she had to lean back against to wall to regain some strength.

"Tis way, zir," she managed to wheeze.

Dumbledore followed the hag through long dark hallways and secret trapdoors. Dirty long-nailed hands sometimes reached through bars.

"GER' OFF!" the hag screamed. She bashed the hands away with a knobbly baton she had retrieved from her cloak. "You kept tat up and there'll be nooooooo food for teh lot of you bazzzztardzzz!"

Dumbledore kept his focus ahead. He did not want to view those faces, did not want to see their dead looking eyes, their lips pleading with silent words.

His dark thoughts disappeared when they met a couple of Finnish Aurors along the way, bent over in deep conversation, each holding a goblet of mead. The Aurors bowed their heads at the sight of the old English headmaster. Dumbledore greeted them the same way. The prison faculty was filled with Aurors and workers from all over Europe, with some ostracised in their own community. This place being the only place they could earn a living. Looking at some more Aurors that he passed, he saw that some had familiar faces, but their names failed him. English Aurors, he thought, they were the lucky few who escaped the Ministry of Magic's new regime.

"Ere'," said the hag as she stopped at a dungeon door. The door was rusty, but sturdy and filled with heavy enchantments; he felt the strong magic prickling his skin like a thousand spiders crawling on his flesh.

Dumbledore looked around as the hag fumbled for the right key in her long key chain. The rocky walls around him were constantly dripping with water, and the iron was damp and eroding. With a click of the key the door opened with a howling shriek.

The hag stood aside, conjured a small rickety stool and sat down. Dumbledore took this as a cue to enter the cell. His eyes needed adjusting to the darkness while his nose needed adjusting to the horrible smell of human waste and decay. The full moon's light washed over the room with a cold eerie light that made the deadly silence even more permeable. There was no warmth, no sense of happiness, and no sense of hope.

The door closed behind him with an ear piercing shriek that made him inwardly cringe.

His footsteps echoed within the dark room. The ceiling was high, filled with chains, spikes and restraints and a cage hung in the middle like a ghastly looking chandelier. Though there was only one man in here, living. Scattered bones and rotting corpses were kicked towards a corner into a pile, like a daily reminder of the prisoner's impending doom. The corpses were overed with salt it seemed, to Dumbledore's disgust. He covered his mouth and pressed on.

Dumbledore could see a figure's outline in another corner, sitting cross-legged and proud. He was still breathing. After all these years, one man had managed to outlive all his cellmates, fuelled by his ambitions and greed.

This man chuckled lightly, his chains moving. "Well… you're a sight for sore eyes."

"It's been awhile, hasn't it, Gellert?" Dumbledore said, as he moved closer.

He ignited his wand and observed the man's features. He was old. The years had been unkind to Gellert, making him look older than Dumbledore himself. The man's beard and hair trailed the floor in knots and dirty wet clamps. His eyes were desperately sunken and dark. His wrinkles were deep, his skin grey and flaking.

"Gellert... I have not heard my name in awhile." He remembered, a slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He obviously had not smiled for years. He then frowned. "No one calls me by my name no more."

"Gellert... have you heard of a wizard who calls himself, Voldemort?"

The man's eyes lit up. "Ahh, that English bastard, what's his name… Riddle… Timothy, Titus..."

"Tom Riddle."

"I do not have the luxury of newspapers in here, but I do hear things. He is winning the battle is he not?"

"I wouldn't say winning…" Dumbledore said slowly, eyes twinkling. Following in the hag's steps, he conjured a chair of his own, and a bottle of brandy with two glasses.

The prisoner stiffened up, eyeing the bottle suspiciously. "What are you doing here, Albus?"

Dumbledore poured out the brandy and handed the glass to the man. "I have come- I have a favour of you to ask."

The imprisoned man narrowed his grey eyes. "Oho, and what do I get in return? I've been in here for over sixty years, no thanks to you." The man smirked, sipping his brandy, after sniffing it and a flutter of hesitation. He closed his eyes and savoured the drink.

"Believe me, Lord Grindelwald; you will not pass this opportunity up."

Hearing his full name swelled the old man with renewed pride. "Tell me then."

Dumbledore observed the once powerful wizard intently, glass to his lips, though not drinking. "But first, what have you heard about Harry Potter?"

* * *

_July 20th, the present._

A tall, long-haired boy with the appearance of a corpse looked around the dark living-room of Severus Snape's dwelling. His fingers prodded the coffee table where a pile of old tomes sat.

This very much annoyed Snape. He did not like anyone touching his things or defiling his house with filth and blood. More so, it was the fact that a Potter had entered his house that irked him most. He watched the boy stride to the couch, fingers lazily touching the fabric, taking him time to absorb his surroundings while the sun slowly sunk down the horizon, dimming the light within the house.

The burgundy couch was covered in a thick layer of dust, but was still so comfortable and inviting. The boy sat down slowly, pain stretching over his face. He outspread his arms over the back of it and closed his eyes.

"Do try and keep your filth off the furniture," Snape hissed as he passed him, gazing around the room, making sure that nothing he wished to keep privy were out in the open for the boy to see.

It was a rare sight indeed for a visitor to grace the rooms of his house, even one as prickly as this boy. And if a visitor did come, it was just as rare if he did end up leaving the house in one piece.

"It's not like they're not filthy already," the emaciated boy retorted. "In fact, do you ever clean? I s'pose not, otherwise your hair wouldn't be so greasy."

Silence… But the tangible feeling of hate spread from Snape like licks of flames. It was bad enough the boy looked almost like his father, right down to that damnable untamed hair, Snape did not want to suffer insolence under his own roof. In truth, the only reason he did not throw the boy out, was the fact his eyes were exactly like Lily's. He had not seen Lily for years, yet he had never forgotten the exact shade of green her eyes.

Snape whipped out his wand, jabbing the point in the soft skin underneath Potter's stubbly chin. The boy looked alarmed, though not as much as he would've liked.

"Insult me again in my own house, Potter. I dare you, you stupid little fool!"

The boy's jaw clenched, breathing heavily. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, as though a mouse was trapped in his throat trying to escape.

"It's a shame those Atoners didn't rip out you tongue," Snape spat, sheathing his wand deep within his black robes again.

Potter did not speak now, but was content to pick at the scabs around his wrists; wounds of his restraints.

"Where have you been hiding?" Snape asked, pacing the room in front of Potter.

"Here and there… anywhere dark," the boy croaked.

"How did you escape Azkaban?"

The boy crinkled his brow. To Snape, the boys green eyes were now different to Lily's. They looked like they belonged to a corpse; so totally lifeless, like pools of murky green water, death to any living thing that touched it. Lily's eyes were a bright light green, like leaves in the spring, unfurling toward the sun for the world to see. These eyes held so much suffering and unrest. If Snape had seen Lily with these eyes, he would give his life away just to make her better and whole again.

"I… I don't know. All I know is that I woke up, and the way for our escape was laid out in front of us. We thought it was a trap at first…" the boy straightened his face, looking away from Snape.

Snape narrowed his eyes suspiciously watching the boy's expressions for untruths. He would've normally have used Legilimency, but since Potter was just as accomplished as he, he had to resort to Muggle means, by simply observing facial expressions.

"How odd, Potter, that you managed to escape with seven others."

"Indeed!" The boy agreed.

"Did you know the people you had escaped with?" Snape knew one fact of this escape. Only one of the seven was a truly loyal Death Eater, Henry Cox, a frightful old warlock who was a master with memory charms. Another four of the escaped simply grew up as hostages in Death Eater households for their parents crimes against the Dark Lord. They themselves had eventually infiltrated the Dark Lord' ranks, and became deadly assassins. The other two were innocent wizards being caught for no crime than to oppose the Ministry and labelled unfairly as Death Eaters.

"I knew of them."

Snape decided not to press on with questions on his escape for now. "What did the Atoners do to you?"

The troubled teen sighed. "You know. You just want to hear it for your own perverse pleasure."

"I have no qualms in seeing you suffer, Potter," Snape said. He kicked the boy's dirty feet from the coffee table. "When was the last time you ate?" he continued, firing off more questions than he had answers.

"A rat two days ago… do you want to know the last time I had a shit too?" He opened his sunken eyes, this time locking sight with Snape.

But Snape would never be intimidated or scared of a stupid ignorant, power-hungry toerag teen. The mere thought was laughable.

He stood in front of the boy, arms crossed with the intent at staring at him to death.

"Why did you come here?" Snape asked; his voice more deadly. Trying to contain the anger he felt within.

"Um… I thought we silently established that fact already!" the boy said, waving his blemished hand around.

"Don't give me cheek boy! You're below me-"

"Below you?" he said with surprise, he straightened up on the couch, looking a little confused and worried. "Since when have I lost my rank—"

Snape smirked. He saved this particular information til last. "You were in Azkaban for awhile. The Dark Lord disapproves of weakness, and getting caught displeased him. You let your emotion come between you and our master's orders."

The boy swore. "How could he- I want back in! I want to be at the top of command-"

"Power is corrupting you more ways than one, Potter… be careful. The Dark Lord likes ambition, but too much of it brings discord to the rest of us, and he doesn't want a weak link, which you are proving to be, despite your powers."

"It's not like he's never planned to kill me, anyway."

As Potter smiled coldly, the boy's suffering were much more emphasised in those green irises. The way he smiled reminded Snape of Lily; it was the way her almond-shaped eyes narrowed in the glow of the smile was exactly like his. Though Lily's had sparkled with love and fun, her son's did not. Snape shook the feeling of dread away.

It had been eleven months since Potter had been captured by the Ministry, put on trial for the Murder of Charlie Potter and the maiming of his sister, as well as the subsequent murders and tortures of innocents and members of the Order of the Phoenix and Muggles.

After fleeing the Potters, Harry Potter had caused such mayhem and progress for the Dark Lord that he had swiftly risen Death Eater ranks.

A year before Hogwarts closed, in fact, soon after Dumbledore had lost against the Dark Lord, Potter was inducted into the Death Eater circle, calmly took the mark upon his arm and did the Dark Lord's bidding. What made him turn to the Dark Side puzzled Snape. There was a large hole in the story, and Snape had his suspicions.

A few times, he had tried to get a straight answer from Dumbledore himself, but the old man, his confidante, had never revealed anything more than a twinkle in his blue eyes. Could the boy be working for Dumbledore like he was? Or perhaps the boy unlike him, _had been_ working for Dumbledore.

Strangely, the Dark Lord wanted the boy close. Many could not understand this, especially since Potter and his family had been considered an enemy. Soon several Death Eaters, including Bellatrix, were plotting ways to bring Potter down.

Eventually, stupidly, Potter was caught loitering around the Mudblood, Hermione Granger's house. The charms the clever Muggle-born had placed on her house had alerted the Aurors straight away.

Finally Snape curled his lip. "At least you know what's coming, if you don't be careful."

"Oh," the boy laughed, "I know it's coming, careful or not."

"Did they break you?"

Silence again permeated the air, chilly and unforgiving. Snape could hear the grandfather clock he had inherited from his Muggle grandfather chime behind him. It seemed so far away, even though it was only a few feet away.

"Humpty Dumpty, sat on a wall…" Potter sang to himself, smiling.

"_Did they break you?"_ Snape repeated.

The boy covered his face with his filthy hands. He did not speak for many moments. The silence spoke a thousand words to Snape, whisperings light to his ears and strong in meaning.

Snape moved closer to the boy, the tiniest flutter of his black robes brushed against the boy's arm. The reaction was instant and confirmed Snape's queries. Potter jumped away, startled and very alarmed.

"I'm not weak!" he protested. "I never revealed anything to them."

Snape did not answer, he could've taunted potter, made him squirm, perhaps even lash out and attack him, in the end he chose not to. Instead, Snape chose to glance out of the window, giving the boy space and a chance to regain control, relishing the sense of power he now held over the boy.

When Potter had first walked in, he probably thought he could command Snape around. Wrong! The boy was nothing in truth, he was only a pawn for the Dark Lord's game. Now Snape was the Dark Lord's right hand man, along with Bellatrix Lestrange. Potter wasn't a privileged member in their ranks anymore and this fact pleased Snape very much.

"I can stay can't I?"

Potter sounded like a scared little child, trying to escape danger, to find refuge.

"It'll only be for a little while, until—"

"Yes. Get washed and into bed. I'll have the house elf fix you some dinner. I will call in a healer on our side, Sigmus Pritchard. He will consult your wounds."

Potter scowled at being told what to do, though Snape could see his tense shoulders relaxing somewhat.

Inwardly, Snape smiled, enjoying the power he now had over the boy.

"While you're under my roof, you're to obey my every command," Snape commanded, taking in the look of outrage on Potter's face with pleasure. "I daresay… it will be a change for you."

Potter pulled himself up, slowly moved up the stairs, sullying even more of Snape's house with his dirt.

* * *

In a cave on the other side of the country, Harry Potter, a complete stranger in this new world, woke up. His mind was reeling, his heart palpitating, and a sense of confusion was setting into a hard ball enclosing his heart. He had just had a rather vivid dream, too real to have been a dream, in fact.

He had seen everything his other self was doing— through his eyes, just like it had happened with Voldemort in his own world. He cupped his hands over his eyes, drinking in of whatever was left of his dream as it slipped away. He remembered seeing Snape, his house and the evil Harry Potter desperate for refuge.

For weeks he had stayed in the cave, only venturing out to find food and little snippets of information from nearby Muggle towns, He wanted to investigate the world he was a stranger in. Everything looked the same. The only things Harry noticed which were unusual, was that a heavy cold mist hung about almost constantly. Even though it was the middle of summer, it felt like winter.

What shocked Harry most as he walked through the town had been when he discovered a group of dead Muggles, or Muggles barely alive outside a pub.

People were trying to get a better look at the death and destruction, but the police, masked in special protective gear and wearing sterile gloves were shooing them away, behind yellow fences that were erected around the area of the dead, and Muggles in biohazard suits carefully piling the plastic covered bodies onto gurneys to be whisked away. Or those were still alive were put into plastic bubble sort of devices, in hope they'd contain the disease.

"Dear God, when did this happen?" A woman in front of Harry asked. "I know this has been happening all over the country for years now, but I never expected it to happen here."

A man next to her, whispered "It happened last night, around 11pm. Some heard screaming, but something got to them as they escaped the pub and they dropped like flies…"

"But what was it. You can't just die, like that!" The woman clicked his fingers, emphasising her point.

"Well, they all thought it was some sort of contagion, but I've heard rumours that a fuzz was shooting at something no one could see, before he too died."

Harry knew that it wasn't a disease that had caused those deaths, it was a kiss from the Dementors, and if the policeman did see something, then he might have had magic in his blood or had been a squib.

Harry stole some food from the local store, the hoodie of his jacket drawn over his face. The owner of the shop was more interested in craning his neck to see the commotion, than seeing Harry steal some food. He quickly returned to his hiding place, the Muggle town far in the distance.

Harry thought many times about turning himself in to the Order of the Phoenix, and pleading them to believe him. But fear held him back for now. He wasn't ready just yet. He wasn't ready to face a father who hated him and a heartbroken mother.

But Harry had no time to sit and think anymore. He heard voices whispering outside the cave and remained completely still.

"This way," one said.

"Wait! Tony, what if there's a g-ghost in there—"

They sounded like children's voices. One could've mistaken them for playful voices, but there was fear in them, Harry noticed.

"Don't be stupid, Ashley… could be Dementor ."

"TONY!" The little girl screamed. "That's not funny!"

Harry saw wand light ignite at the very edge of the cave, the light and the shadows that it made drew closer and bigger. Harry stood up, resting against the wall and disillusioned himself. What he saw next made his insides squirm.

The boy, perhaps ten years old, had a disfigured face; his right side mainly. It was red and deeply scarred with white lines. His right eye was white and foggy and part of his hair was missing, his ear completely gone. His arm was just the same. And what shocked Harry most was the dark mark, as black as ink on his left forearm when his cloak had drifted back.

The little girl, who had been scared moments before, gripped the boy's cloak.

She was a foot shorter than the boy, her hair cut so short that Harry could see bruises and cuts on her scalp.

"I want to go home…" she said, scared and sad.

"We can't stupid! We can't go back, not yet! They'll catch us. We were lucky to escape."

What kind of a world was this? Harry thought with horror.

Harry moved his hand an inch and some gravel fell to the ground, both children looked at the very spot he stood camouflaged, and screamed.

**So what did you guys think? Please review. **


	9. Friend and Foe

**Chapter 8**

**Friend and Foe**

Harry gripped his wand tighter as the children's screams made the entire cave ring like a ghastly choir of screeching noise. Sharp rocks and sand began falling onto their heads. Harry could here a distant rumble within the rocks as it strained to keep itself intact. He was terrified that the cave, holding him safe would fall in. Harry's protective camouflage wore off so that he stood face to face with the two children.

"STOP!" Harry said, "I won't hurt you." He very much wanted to shut them up.

The boy named Tony bit his lip, eyes searching the roof of the cave. He too realised the danger their yells were causing. He clutched the young girl tightly, muffling her shouts with one hand.

The children fought for breath, their eyes wide with apprehension at both Harry and the cave.

"I know who you are," the boy whispered, looking at Harry again. "You-you were there when you killed our parents. You laughed. You hurt us. You ordered the Death Eaters to take us."

"What?" asked Harry, aghast. "I never did anything to you." But of course, Harry then remembered that they all thought he was his malicious Mirrored double.

"You killed my mummy and daddy." The little girl named Ashley sobbed, her face screwed up in tears. She looked so exhausted.

Harry opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Mirror Harry seemed to have no limits with the evil he inflicts on others.

"I don't suppose you would remember," the boy said, venom laced his voice. "You probably kill people and kidnap kids all the time. It's like a game to you people." The little girl cried into the boy's cloak. "I'll tell you something, you didn't break me or my sister. We haven't changed at all for your master and we'll die before we have to fight for him. Our parents were on the good side, so we'll die for the good side too."

The girl cried harder, perhaps frightened at her brother's words.

Harry was taken a back by such mature-minded little boy. He looked into the boy's blue eyes, there was such determination in them, such fierce hate. How could they learn to trust him? Not when they witnessed the death of their parents, and then for this world's Harry to laugh and mock at their murders.

"I hope they did very bad things to you in Azkaban," the little girl sobbed, wiping her eyes.

"Wait!" said Harry, one hand outstretched, while in his other hand he pointed his wand toward the ground. "You've mistaken me for someone else, someone who looks like me."

"Yeah right—"

BANG!

Harry started. He whipped left and right to the source of the noise. Tony and Ashley hadn't caused the sound; instead both brother and sister griped each other, not willing to lose the other. Harry heard shouts and laughter from outside the cave and now both children seemed to shrink into the shadows in an effort to become invisible to this new threat.

"Oh no!" the girl squealed. "I don't want to go back," she cried. The children turned to bolt, but Harry, by instinct, grabbed both; his hands cupped their mouths, and hugged them tight against the wall covered in shadow.

Harry swore to himself. The Death Eaters must have followed the children.

"I heard them somewhere," a deep voice rang. A light danced on the stones ahead of Harry, and he saw the figures long thin shadows snaking their way through the cave like spidery fingers. "I knew they'd come in here."

"Ahh yes… little bitsy children," droned a female voice.

Harry remembered that voice with a shiver. It belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange.

"You can't escape, little children. You belong to us now. Granny hates the both of you. In fact, if you went home, she'd call the Aurors in."

Another female Death Eater laughed; giggled with joy. She sounded like a happy hyena who'd found meat to scavenge. "Come on now, Anthony and Ashley. Be good and come out! If you do, the punishment will be less than severe, but only just." She giggled.

"Alecto, will stop terrifying the children. They won't come out if you threaten them like that," Another Death Eater spoke.

"Shut up, Sinistra!" Alecto spat, in retaliation.

"I smell blood," said another. To Harry's horror he saw Fenrir Greyback's shadow loom near. The werewolf's yellow fangs bared and covered with blood.

Both children tried to squirm away, but Harry made sure he held them tight.

"I'll have you both for dinner, I will—"

"No you won't, Greyback!" Bellatrix spat! "If you lay your stinking fangs on my apprentices, I'll make sure you'll pay…"

Greyback laughed sarcastically. "Bella, your rats are complete useless bits of rubbish! They wouldn't recognise an enemy if it danced in front of their faces."

"DON'T YOU DARE TALK TO ME LIKE THAT, YOU FILTHY HALFBREED!"

The Death Eaters halted their search as they squabbled amongst themselves.

Harry needed to Disapparate the children to safety. Time was running out fast. If they were caught, Harry would never find a way to get back home. His half-formed plan vanished when the girl bit his arm and ran.

"NO!" both Harry and the boy yelled, as the girl fell straight into Greyback's clutches when she rounded the corner of the cave. She screamed. Harry froze.

"Gotcha, lil' missy."

"NO! NO! NO!" she screamed. Her legs kicked the air as Greyback's mouth closed in onto her neck.

"GET OFF HER!" Bella screamed, slashing her wand at the werewolf.

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled. The jet of red light was aimed at Greyback and hit him between his shoulder bladders, just as Bellatrix's curse hit his face. Greyback, toppled sideways, pulling the girl with him.

The Death Eater, Sinistra, who Harry recognised as a Professor at Hogwarts in his own world, pulled Ashley free, holding tightly to her robes. Both were now watching Harry with trepidation.

Bella seemed stunned, as though she had been hit by Harry's curse. Then she smiled, though awkward at first, pointing her wand at him. There was nothing friendly about it however; she was really smirking at the situation.

"Well, well, well! Protecting the little ones are you now, Harry dear?" Bellatrix said.

She sounded winded, like she had been running. She licked her lips while Harry struggled to keep the boy from running into their clutches as well.

"Azkaban really has fried your brain. I don't blame you, really, after what those Aurors and Atoners do. HA! And they call us depraved! How ironic..."

"Let her go," Harry said confidently, his anger at Bellatrix swelling into a giant ball ready to burst. Greyback growled at him as he struggled to stand, his senses coming back to him. And then Harry said something which was risky and sounded revolting. "Besides… I found them first."

The boy Harry was trying to protect yelled and kicked Harry. He ignored the sharp pain in his left knee.

"Hand her over, Sinistra," Harry gritted.

What surprised him most was that the Death Eaters had listened to his command. Sinistra let go of the flailing girl. Ashley stumbled and backed away from the Death Eaters, inching her way slowly to Harry and her brother. Greyback pulled back, happy to wait behind Bellatrix.

How high up in the chain of command was Harry in this world? He felt a sick thrill of power sizzle through his veins. But was it his power and his own thoughts? Harry swatted this doubt from his mind. He'll worry about it later. First, he needed to get out of this situation.

Bellatrix scowled as Ashley reluctantly returned to Harry. "YOU CAN'T JUST STEAL MY PROPERTY, POTTER!" she screamed. "You've got no right!"

There was a surge of wrath through Harry. How could they steal children from their parents and brainwash them to become murderous monsters? The girl inched forward, carefully tugging on the boy's sleeve. She wasn't crying anymore, instead Harry could see her wand poking from her tattered sleeve. The Death Eaters had already begun training the children into fighting soldiers for the Dark side.

Harry grabbed her; she screamed. He caught her wand arm before she had the chance to do anything drastic.

"You can't take them!" Bella screeched again, wand pointing between Harry's eyes now. Green sparks flew out of it. "The Dark Lord will hear of this, and he will punish you!"

Harry focused on Bellatrix and the group of Death Eaters all staring at him hungrily. "I'm taking them, and you can't stop me."

Holding tight onto both children, he whirled around. With a loud crack, Harry felt a familiar clenching feeling around his body, like a vice was slowly crushing him. The space was cramped and noisy with whooshing air, mixed with Bella's screams of outrage. Then there was nothing, but peace.

He opened his eyes and felt a cold breeze on his face. They were all panting for breath and wondering was going to happen next. For a moment Harry couldn't believe what had just happened. He looked at his feet, still acutely aware that he was holding onto to two very scared, yet dangerous children.

They were standing in a grassy park. The sky was filled with looming clouds and the threat of rain. He had just escaped Death Eaters without them even challenging his authority. Adrenalin rushed through Harry's body and his heart was beating fast. It was all too good to be true. He almost felt victorious.

Outside the buzz he was experiencing, he heard sniffling. The little girl was sobbing. Harry realised that he was holding the children tightly enough to feel their own scared pulses.

Harry felt hot, his blood still surging with emotion. But now the cool breeze was beginning to seep into his skin. Goose bumps erupted all over, making him shiver. The adrenalin was beginning to wear off, allowing his mind to form clear and rational thoughts.

Where to now? He thought. Panic set in and then another foreboding began to bloom. What was he going to do with two kids? He can't take care of them, not when this world was a completely new strange place.

"Wh-what are you going to do to us?" the boy finally spoke. Harry looked ahead and spotted a swing and a slippery slide. They were in a Muggle park. Behind the trees he could a couple of scattered cars zooming by.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Harry said still focused ahead.

"Yeah right," the boy said, but there was resignation in his voice.

"Bella would've punished us if she got us again," the little girl said, trembling. "That's what happens if you ever tried to escape. And- and if you escape three times, y-you have to be killed."

"It's treason against the Dark Lord, stealing us," Tony grimaced. "You should know the laws, Potter."

Harry hesitated, then said, "I'm going to try and get you two to safety, but in order to do that, I need your help."

"Whe- where are you going to take us?" Ashley asked.

"Somewhere where we're safe from the Ministry and Voldemort... and everyone else…"

Both children gasped in fear because Harry had said Voldemort's name; they had even stopped struggling against Harry's grip to stare at him.

"You're not supposed to say his name, Potter… that's treason too."

Harry swore to himself. He remembered that the name was now cursed in his own world. For a moment he feared that Death Eaters would've been alerted. Looking around he was glad they hadn't showed up, meaning his name wasn't tabooed.

"Everything's treason when you're dealing with him."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Well, I'm different now," he added pretending to be the Mirror Harry. "Prison's changed me. I'm on the good side now."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "We're not stupid, you know. We've fallen plenty times for your tricks. Just because Dolores Umbridge oversaw your imprisonment doesn't mean you've changed!"

"Umbridge? What does she do? I-I mean I've forgotten some things while I was in Azkaban."

Tony narrowed his eyes even more, so now they looked closed. "Umbridge is the Minister of, um… um, Law Enforcement and Interrogation. She's been in charge, for like ten years."

"Hasn't Dumbledore done anything about it?" Harry blurted.

"Dumbledore?" the boy asked in surprise. "He's nothing! He works with the Ministry sometimes, interrogates and imprisons people too. Dad said he's got his own secret organisation to protect us from the Dark side. But if Dumbledore does, how come he didn't rescue us? How come he left us to rot?" Tony clenched his hands into fists. "Maybe it's because my parents wanted nothing to do with the Order anymore. We weren't worthy enough to be saved."

"He's… he's got his reasons for it, I suppose," Harry said cautiously. In his own world, reading Skeeter's articles about her book, _The Life and Lies of Dumbledore, _and listening to Aunt Muriel's gossip made Harry a little more than confused and angry about Dumbledore. But he still trusted his mentor, deep down.

Tony shook his head. "He doesn't care. When Hogwarts was open, he did his best to protect the school and the students. He even let Muggle-borns in. The Dark Lord was greatly displeased about that. I was really, really looking forward to going to Hogwarts, I was meant to go that year. Then, of course, the Chamber of Secrets opened."

"Oh…" Some things never changed, Harry thought.

"Do you remember what happened next?"

Harry shook his head.

Tony continued. "A couple of Slytherins rounded all the Muggle-borns up, on the Dark Lord's order. They were all killed by that monster. It's still on the loose. Some say you were the group's leader and that you opened the Chamber, but Dumbledore didn't think so.

"But you disappeared a few weeks before the school attack, actually right after Dumbledore lost his fight with the Dark Lord. That's when you started to turn bad. _Really_ bad."

Harry could learn a lot from these kids. He needed to learn more than enough for him to familiarise himself with the world and to survive within it.

"You both have wands, and you haven't tried to curse me yet."

"Yeah well, you're one of the Dark Lord's closest, Potter. We've seen the destruction you can do with a wave of your wand, or a stare. We wouldn't even dare to hex you. And we can't anyway… there's a curse that's put on us if we fight back until we've been fully trained."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Look, if I let you both go, where would you go?"

"Home," Ashley said, "to Grandma's."

"We can't," the boy stressed. "We'd just keep running."

"What, for the rest of your lives?" The children looked at each other. Harry sighed. "If I was really bad, what would I have done to you by know?"

"Crucioed us."

"And I haven't."

"You could be tricking us," Tony spat.

He loosened his grip on their arms and hoped that it wasn't a stupid thing to do. "I'm not. I'm going to let you both go. You'll have the choice of running away and get caught again, or you can follow me and be safe…"

The children had been tortured for a long time Harry speculated. He couldn't stop staring at their scars and wounds. So he wouldn't have been surprised if they dashed off.

Harry walked away a few steps, his coat flapping in the breeze. He was met with only silence and cold air. After a moment, fearing that the children had run away, he turned around.

Tony and Ashley stood side by side hugging each other, eyes glued on Harry's like preying owls.

"I guess you'll be following me?" Harry said, shivering now. Now he was really surprised.

He stared ahead; they were alone in a deserted park, swirling with that ghastly mist, and with nothing to protect themselves from the elements. He knew where he'll head to next. He just wasn't sure on how they'd react. Harry trudged forward, the wet grass sliding along with trouser legs and sneakers, soaking them. He knew he could feel the kids following him.

"Your names are Ashley and Tony, right?" Harry asked, as he halted by a set of grossly coloured monkey bars. Not to far off, the tar on the road glittered with the light rain.

The little girl nodded. "Y-yes, we're Ashley and Anthony Pettigrew."

"Shut up, Ash!" the boy said and the girl screeched when her brother yanked her arm. "He already knows, he's just playing games with us!"

"That's enough!" Harry said. His heart fluttered again. Pettigrew's children? Peter Pettigrew? Harry felt a sense of revulsion spread throughout his body like wildfire. "Peter-?"

"Yeah, that's our dad," Tony said, resigning to the fact that Harry knew their secret.

"And- and he was good, was he?"

"Yeah…" the boy said, outraged at such a question. "Don't you dare say anything bad about our father, Potter! He saved your dad's life!"

Harry bit his lip, curious indeed. So Peter was good in this world and had rescued James in some way. _If only Peter had the guts in my own world, _he thought bitterly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude. Um, how did your dad save mine?" Harry asked. His curiosity got the better of him.

The boy continued to look at him suspiciously, as though he thought Harry had gone mad or was mocking him. "My dad saved James from Greyback, months before Hogwarts closed. He got himself bitten saving your dad. He was never the same after. He didn't like the Order after that."

"Was your dad my parent's Secret Keeper?" Harry wondered how different this world was.

"No, Sirius Black is."

Harry pressed on with the questions. He felt as though he was treading on eggshells with the next question. "Was your dad a Death Eater?"

Tony kicked a stone over. "Was… He turned though. Your dad and Sirius stopped him from getting in too far. Then Dumbledore used him to spy for the Order. But Dumbledore didn't give a toss about my dad after he got bitten. The last time my dad visited your dad, it was to speak with Charlie, before, well, before you killed him."

"Oh," Harry said, "why did your dad visit Charlie?"

Tony smiled. "Charlie was so cool. I liked him the most out of you lot. He knew so much about animals and he taught me so much stuff and cool charms. I guess my dad had questions about the bite." The boy shrugged.

In the distance, they heard a few cars skidding along the road. Probably kids drag racing. Once again Harry thought of the immediate danger they were all in. "Look… we really need to get out of here."

"Where are we going?" Ashley asked. She made the motion to follow Harry, but Tony stopped her and made sure he held her hand tightly.

"Yeah, where exactly are you planning on taking us? It better be quick, Potter, there's that Muggle curfew..."

"Just follow me, it's not so far away," Harry said, walking through shrubs and away from a set of swings squeaking in the breeze. "What do you mean there's a curfew?'

"The Muggle army patrol the streets at night, _trying _to protect Muggles from the Dementors and Death Eater attacks. Anyone without a blue pass isn't allowed to roam the streets."

Harry focused ahead to the neatly manicured lawns and the pinprick lights floating out of the curtained windows of the boring little houses. He wouldn't confront them till mid morning. For now, they'd try to find somewhere warm to sleep near by.

His mind was still reeling at the fact he was now protecting Pettigrew's children.

* * *

Severus loved the silence and his house was filled with much of it. He stood in a dark corner and watched Potter sleep. He slept peacefully and unperturbed by his haunted memories, simply done with a swig of Dreamless Sleep potion. Severus ponderously thought what the consequences might be if he pulled a pillow from beneath Potter's head and smothered him with it.

It had been hours since the boy had first arrived here. He left the healer alone, locked in the room with Potter, now, Severus saw the boy for the first time since he arrived, and the difference was remarkable. The soft bed he lay on seemed to swallow him in.

On the other side of the bed, Sigmus Pritchard, a bald-headed healer, with piercing grey eyes and a bulbous oily nose wiped his hands clean of the blood and grime from Potter's old wounds. Severus helped by placing the bed sheets over Potter's bandaged body, and quickly placed a charm on the sheets to make them feel like they weighed a ton. He wanted to make sure the boy did not move.

"I've done my best," Sigmus spoke.

It didn't sound promising to Severus. "How long will it be until he recovers?"

"The wounds are old. Some of the cursed ones may take years to heal…" The Healer shrugged. "Give him a few days, and he'll feel himself again. I cannot say the same for his memories." Sigmus turned and downed a glass of Firewiskey that sat on the cabinet.

Potter had been cleaned. His face was once again smooth, without that pathetic beard he had sprouted. His hair, though still long had been washed, then untangled and a charm had been used to remove the louse infestation. He still carried various wounds and his bones jutted underneath papery grey skin. But there he wasn't in any danger.

Sigmus poured himself another full glass of whiskey then moved towards his tattered briefcase. He began rummaging through it, pulling out bottles. "He'll need a few potions."

"I'm not surprised."

Sigmus placed them on the cabinet, one after the other. Once he finished rehashing on what potions that the boy needed, he quickly drank the glass that sat waiting for him, filled with the golden liquid.

"I don't need to explain what they are and how often you need to give them to the boy. You are after all, the maker of these."

Severus wondered if Potter would once again clasp the concept of safety, as he picked up a bottle, shaking its contents. Nothing could ever compare to the safety of his mother and his family. _Lily, if only you could see him now, would you repel him? Or would you hold him tight and wish his hurts away?_ If Severus truly knew the love of his life, then he knew what the answer would be.

He charmed a chair to the bed and sat. He knew from reports that Potter was an insomniac. In Azkaban prisoners had learned not to sleep so long. They learnt that the dark was their enemy, and when the cell door opened, to pray for whatever sufferings to be inflicted, to end quickly. The cell they kept Potter in had charms to suppress his magic and any fight or escape he may try.

Now that the boy was safe, there would be nothing to distract him from the sins others had done to him. Severus smirked in the darkness. Perhaps the boy's experience might humble him a bit.

"I'd best be going," Sigmus announced, breaking Severus's thoughts.

"Yes, it is rather late. Thank you, Sigmus."

Sigmus Pritchard packed his things away, discarding bloodied towels, soiled gauze and such with a swipe of his wand and retreated from the bedroom. The healer chuckled to himself in the landing. "They make us Death Eaters look like saints, those Atoners."

Now, it was only himself and Potter in the house. Severus snuffed out a few candles and poured himself glass of whiskey. He felt that he deserved it, after all the day's events. He was sure Dumbledore would agree.

He was about to sit down when he noticed that Potter's eyes were wide open. His green eyes staring at the ceiling, like lifeless emeralds in the dim light of the room.

Surprise and annoyance filled him. Did Pritchard not give him enough Dreamless Sleep Potion? Severus placed his glass on the cabinet. It was only a single move, but it jerked the boy.

"How can a once fearless arrogant fool turn into a scared little mouse as you are now?" Severus's words punctured the silence like crisp new snowflakes falling for the first time.

"Fuc—"

He forced Potter's mouth to suddenly seal on itself. The boy seemed panicked.

Severus was mocking him in the boy's weakest moment. Severus had been the Dark Lord's favourite until the boy pushed passed him, slithering his way through the ranks like a giant snake. There was always an element of jealousy he thought, envy which ran rife with James Potter and now it has passed onto his son.

Potter could never know truly the secrets Severus carried. They were both masters at Occlumency. But there was an unwritten rule to never speak of this ability to the Dark Lord. So neither Severus nor Potter would risk betraying each other's lives, for then, their own lives would end as well.

"Manners Potter; swearing is not allowed in my house."

The boy mumbled, unable to speak until the curse was lifted, which Severus did after letting him make incoherent sounds for a minute.

"Then don't mock me," he managed to say in the end. "Why did you come in here anyway? Felt the urge to sing me a lullaby?" he teased, staring into the dark outline of Severus's face.

He stiffened up. "I've come with some fairly interesting news. But first you need a sleeping potion"

"I don't need a sleeping—"

"Yes you do. You're in dire need of rest."

"Since when do you care if I need sleep or not?" Potter spat, trying to wriggle in his bed.

Severus snorted, as he poured the potion into a goblet. "You're right, I don't care, but you are still the Dark Lord's servant and my ally despite our… mutual differences. It's my duty to protect those on our side and that unfortunately includes you."

"That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy," Potter replied, through clenched teeth. "What's this news you bring anyway?"

Severus paused for a moment as though he was deliberating on the information he had found out only an hour before. "Actually I think I'll tell you tomorrow now."

"Stop undermining me!" Potter yelled, suddenly angered at Severus's unpredictability. "You come in here taunting me and I can't even defend myself."

"Ahh, feeling vulnerable are you? You should be used to it by now."

"WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?" Potter screamed, enraged now.

Severus's nose was inches from his, as Potter pulled and kicked at his blankets. He was not perturbed by his words.

"You should sleep now," he added as the boy struggled. This time there was no hint of sarcasm. It wasn't a suggestion but a command.

Severus heard a bell tingle from within the house, but he ignored it for a moment even though it was an alarm.

Before Potter could protect himself, Severus wrenched his jaw open with force. The liquid trickled down his throat against his will. Potter spluttered, coughed. However, just like moments with his attackers in Azkaban, Severus was sure, the boy inevitably gave in.

"Bastard…" Potter mumbled, his eyelids were heavy with sleep.

Severus sighed. "Thank you for pointing that out for the umpteenth time. Remember Potter, you are still underneath me. I can make your life just as miserable as those Atoners did."

"Cunt…" the boy slurred before sleep finally took hold.

He watched the boy's chest rising and falling before he thought it was safe to retreat from the room. He turned around and saw the tall, wizened old figure at the doorway.

"That was highly entertaining," the wizard chortled, moving toward the bed. He twisted his silver goatee, observing the boy's features. "So this is the great Harry Potter! The Dark Mage of our time…" He prodded the boy's cheek with one long finger.

"You shouldn't be here, Grindelwald." Severus said through gritted teeth. "I've had enough visitors in this house for one day!"

**Please review, and make me a very happy. Thanks.**


	10. Refuge

**Chapter 9**

**Refuge**

Harry awoke to a cold and normally misty day. His eyes were still closed, but he felt the chill and frost on his face. As the early morning light permeated through his eyelids, he heard a few birds twittering in the distance, and a garbage truck as it slowly made its way down the street emptying bins. Harry's stomach also made loud angry grumbles. He ignored the hunger pangs. He was quite used to being hungry.

He opened his eyes, wiped them and slowly popped up on his elbows staring around. Tony and Ashley still slept, huddling each other tightly. Even in sleep they were afraid of separation.

The night before they had found refuge beneath a white gazebo covered with pink roses in amMuggle backyard. As Harry stretched and rubbed the aches in his neck, he noticed the back door to the house was creaking open.

"Shit," Harry hissed as he quickly flattened himself onto the gazebo floor. The door was directly opposite, so anyone could spot them and scream. They were afterall, trespassing.

"Whzgoinon?" said Tony, blinking, confused.

Harry cupped a hand over the boy's mouth. "Shhh, stay low, we don't want to be seen." He was grateful for the mist that hung about, disguising them a little.

A plump woman with ragged brown hair, wearing a pink dressing gown, stepped outside. She took one look at the overflowing bin, and rolled her eyes. With a huff she turned around and entered the house again, screaming, "STEVEN! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TAKE THE BLOODY BIN OUT!"

"I forgot," the husband replied from within the house.

"SECOND WEEK IN A ROW-"

In amidst the domestic dispute, Tony woke Ashley and followed Harry's silent moments snaking his way out of the Gazebo. They had entered the side gate with a simple _Alohomora_, so they exited the same way. With the children closely behind, Harry was able to relax slightly when they pushed their way through the scrubs into the front yard, then into the street, yet Harry felt very exposed, almost naked.

If anyone looked out the window now, they would see three very strange cloaked and dirty figures on the footpath.

Tony and Ashley had their hoods up, their cloaks drawn around them tightly. They wounds stung in the fresh air, and no doubt Harry knew they felt ashamed by their scars.

"W-w-where to n-n-now?" asked the tiny girl, trying to stifle a yawn.

"Hold my hands," he said to the boy and girl. "We're going to walk a little."

"How far?"

"A couple of blocks," Harry replied, finally grabbing hold of their hands after they had hesitated. Their fingers were cold.

"My feet hurt," the girl sniffled.

"Shut it, Ash, just do what he says," the boy growled. At once Ashley did what she was told, sniffling in silence.

Harry looked at the little girl as they began walking. Her face hung low under her wet cloak. She looked like a very sad rag doll. Ashley was a lost soul in this world, a child broken into submission. Harry turned his attention onto her brother. He caught a glimpse of a different spirit. The boy, a burgeoning teen, and just as lost like his sister and tortured just the same, was fuelled by anger, hate and grief. Harry was suddenly reminded of himself in fifth year when he had experienced so much of the same emotions.

He wondered what life would've been like for the two children if they had not been captured by his other self. Would Peter Pettigrew still be alive and working for both sides? What would they be doing now? What would the children like: their hobbies and dreams? Did Tony want to be a famous Quidditch player or an Auror? Did Ashley want to be a princess or a Hogwarts Professor before all this happened?

All that Harry wanted to do at their age, before he ever dreamed that he was a wizard was to get as far away from the Dursleys and get a job, any job to make sure he'd always have a roof over his head and food in his stomach. He also wanted a big bedroom with a large bed, clothes that fit him perfectly and friends and family who loved him. That was all Harry wanted at their age. Harry shook those thoughts out of his head. He did not want to think about his childhood. But how can he escape it, when he was going to the very place that perpetuated such misery in his own world.

As they quickly walked, Harry started to notice strange little things in this Mirror Muggle world. When then mist shifted a clearing over one street, Harry saw that all the front doors had a yellow poster stuck on. Upon closer inspection, Harry read what it said.

_By Order of the British Government – Department of Defence and Department of Health,_

_We declare this house and its inhabitants to be free of all contagion and terrorism and are hereby safe to live in._

"Dementors, Death Eaters… death…" Tony expressed, seeing how intrigued Harry was by the poster. "This street's been cleared by the Muggles."

Now, as they rounded a corner into a very familiar street of manicured lawns and little houses that looked like dull brown cupboard boxes, he never dreamt that he would make a journey back here. Harry thought insanely that these horrible Muggles would be much safer option than living among wizards at the moment. A wave of comprehension washed over him. He suddenly understood why Dumbledore had left him with the Dursleys when he was only one years old.

Harry stopped beside number two; both children stared at him, waiting for direction. He took a deep breath, it was around seven in the morning and Harry's Uncle Vernon Dursley would have left for work already, so it would have been safer to deal with one of them.

Taking a very deep and long breathe Harry struggled forwards without stopping to reconsider his decision. He walked into the front garden up the few little steps that were guarded by two large hydrangea bushes, and then stood face to face with the white door with a large gold number four. Harry strained his neck. The garden and the exterior of the house looked exactly the same as the Dursleys house in his world, except, Harry noticed that the house had that yellow sign, declaring it safe.

"Is something wrong?" Tony asked.

Harry shook his head, "No… I'm just thinking. That's all." He finally summed up all the courage he could master. He would rather face Voldemort now than to ask the Dursleys for safe refuge.

Harry knocked on the door three times. A dog barked from within the house, its sound becoming louder as he rushed towards the door. For a wild second Harry hoped to God it wasn't Aunt Marge's dearly beloved pit bull. A woman called for the dog to back off. At least she sounded like his Aunt Petunia.

The door opened, it took several moments before Petunia realised who was standing on the front porch. She gasped just before she tried to slam the door shut. Harry regrettably, with a lot of pain, had wedged his foot in-between the frame and the door, making Aunt Petunia yelp in fear and the dog growl.

"Get away from me you filthy boy!" she said with such fierce hate, Harry was slightly thrown aback. Yes, he thought, the Dursleys were exactly the same.

"Aunt Petunia, listen to me, we—"

He prised the door open and pushed himself into the hallway, both children following behind him. Petunia run behind a cabinet and brandished a wooden coat stand full of coats into Harry's face. He backed off a little and Ashley squeaked, burying her head in Harry's cloak.

"Get out of my house, NOW! Or I'll call those Aero guard people who are hunting you!"

"They're called Aurors- put the stand down! I just want to talk; we're not going to hurt anyone."

Aunt Petunia was having none of it. She threw a figurine at Harry which missed his head by an inch. Ashley shrieked, poking her wand at Petunia. The dog tried to bite Harry's leg but managed to sink his teeth into his coat instead.

"NO!" Harry yelled, "No spells," he warned the children, as he tried shaking off the dog. Aunt Petunia shrieked and bolted towards the kitchen. She slammed the kitchen door with a crash, its glass panes breaking.

"I'm calling the police!" Petunia screamed, now wielding a knife. "Get any closer and I'll call them."

Harry closed his eyes, sighing with great frustration.

Tony looked at him, a smirk playing on his lips. Harry knew he was taking pleasure in Harry's failure to calm a Muggle woman down. "What do we do now?"

"Go wait in the living room," Harry snapped, pointing them in the right direction. They followed his order. Harry was going to have a nice chat with his Aunt Petunia.

* * *

At Spinners End, Severus was having great difficulty rousing Harry Potter from his deep slumber. The curtains had been pulled back by a small house elf named Dimples, to reveal the grey miserable weather beyond. Dimples had set a tray of potions beside the sickbed and left without another word, leaving Severus to force the boy to wake.

"Wake up now!" He shook the boy.

Potter moaned, rubbing his eyes. It seemed to take a long while before he realised where he was and what was happening. Severus grew very impatient and gave the boy a sharp slap on his cheek.

"What the bleeding hell was that for?" Potter yelled, covering his face with both arms in a defensive way.

"You need to take your potions."

"An alarm clock would've been more sufficient." Potter massaged his sore cheek.

Severus ignored his jape and passed the boy one goblet filled with orange liquid. "It will help your skin heal."

He cringed in pain as he sat up on his pillows. His jet black hair tumbled around his face, but he obeyed Severus and took the goblet, cupping it gently with both hands. His face was pulled into a disgusted expression as he tasted the liquid. "Wish it was pumpkin juice…" he whispered between difficult gulps.

It was these rare moments that Severus thought he could glimpse the boy before he became the ruthless, crazed Death Eater he was today.

"How are you feeling?"

The boy shrugged, sleep still evident in his eyes. "Dare I say much better?"

"Good. Now take this potion." Severus handed him another goblet, this time filled with a creamy frothy liquid. "This will taste better. It is a Nutrition Potion."

Potter took it and drank slowly. "I could drink this one all day."

"Don't, unless you want to end up the size of a blue whale." Severus made the boy drink two more different potions. One potion Sigmus had left for the boy, was for any possible internal wounds that may have been caused in Azkaban, but Severus conceded that he would've died by now if that were the case. Of course, there was no harm in making sure by giving him the potion and the second was to replenish any blood lost.

"I need to talk to you," Severus said, as he took away the last goblet. He moved toward the window, staring into the mist. Dementors again, he thought. Every second day there was a depression inducing mist. Every day, Muggles end up unexplainably turned into living vegetables, baffling and frightening the Muggle community. Sometimes when a page from a Muggle newspaper drifting in the wind wound up outside of Severus's house, he would read the articles in interest: _Terror in London, 100 People Dead… Mass Destruction in Glasgow, Terrorists leave Green Skull in Sky, Sign of Their Involvement… Big Ben Crumbles… Prime Minister struck with Contagion, Dead… _

Potter did not say a word. He ran fingers through his hair before he took the time to examine his red purple, crusty fingernails. Severus had noticed that the nails had been plucked out under torture and were slowly growing back.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes," the boy snapped, his green eyes locked onto Severus's for a moment. Today they looked a little more like Lily's.

"It seems that you stole Bella's apprentices last night."

Potter pulled the bed sheets over his bandaged torso and narrowed his eyes. "Did I?" he asked.

"Yes, strange, considering that you've been in bed all night last night. The wards in this house would've triggered an alarm if you had somehow escaped, and Sigmus was in this room, healing you—"

"Escape?" he questioned slowly, drinking in the word. "Have I become your prisoner?"

Severus curled his lip. "This person looked like you. He was very much an uncanny resemblance, yet wearing glasses."

"The children are safe! My eyesight gets blurry from time to time…"

Severus believed him. He did find glasses in the boy's Azkaban tunic. "How did you do it?"

"Er, Does Bella know I'm beneath her now?"

"No. She still assumes you are higher than her in the circle," Severus replied. "That's why she reluctantly gave you the children. The news will reach her ears soon. Our master had rearranged the hierarchy only hours before this interesting development.

"In light, the Dark Lord will not kill you just yet because of your subordination."

"Oh that's so nice of him."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "He still has use for you."

"Oh it makes me feel so valued."

"Mockery of the Dark Lord is treason." Exactly like his father, thought Severus. "He'll let you keep the children… if indeed, it was really you who had perpetrated such a mutiny."

Potter licked his lips. "Yes, I stole them."

Severus hid his confusion. "How?"

The boy rested his head on the pillow.

Severus whipped out his wand. "Where are they?" It had the desired effect straight away. "Or, would you like me to _Crucio_ the information out of you."

"Safe." The boy replied slowly, glaring at the wand apprehensively. "Seriously, do you think your spell will work on me? I'm not that scared boy in the first day of Potions class anymore."

"You are an arrogant prat, Potter! You will never change. Care to explain how you did it? I would really like to know how you left this house without me and Sigmus kno-"

"How do you think I did it?"

"I think you Imperioused the old drunk after he divulged the sensitive information of Bella's missing children. You're powerful enough to turn off the alarms in this house and decided to make a run for it.

"Maybe you should've put special wards in my room to prevent me from escaping," Potter laughed.

"You always had a competitive streak against Bella, this was the perfect opportunity to steal them away. Sometimes I wonder if you secretly lust after her."

The colour in Potter's face grew red and his hands turned to white knuckled fists. Anger was an understatement in the teen's face, as his green eyes blazed in rage. "You have no idea what you're talking about!"

Severus raised both eyebrows. He knew in the early days of Potter's induction that he was forced by the Dark Lord to be under the guidance of Bellatrix Lestrange, but how far and how profound had her guidance been? They hated each other with such zeal. He knew there was no lust; no passion between the two, Severus just wanted to taunt the boy. Yet, he had hit upon a raw nerve, scraped a secret buried beneath the dirt. He smirked, if only he could flip the pages of Potter's mind.

"Ahh… lovers quarrels," he mocked, trying to get a raise out the boy.

"That bitch _Conditioned_ me more ways than one," Potter spat viciously.

Surprise took hold of Severus. "You never needed to be—"

"-Didn't stop her from doing what she did to me. I never wanted to be put under her Condit- command that first year. She hates me, like she hates Sirius and my parents. Really, it's just like you hate them."

Was the boy lying? Severus resisted the urge to just grab hold of the boy's skull and Legilimens him, until he screamed for mercy.

"I don't want to know what she did to you in the past…. I just want to know how this all happened under my roof last night. I am responsible for you now and the crimes you commit."

The boy bashed his fist onto the mattress and sighed. "The Pettigrew children are safe and sound. When I got back here, I Obliviated Pritchard and feigned sleep."

Severus made no intention to move. He simply crossed his arms, thinking. It was quite plausible that Potter had committed the treason the night before, but it unsettled him. The house had no need for wards against Apparating and powerful spells, as all Death Eater homes were under a Secret Keeper; most usually it was the Dark Lord himself. One, it was to keep an eye on his army. Severus gazed around the room; he'd need to put Anti-Apparating charms within the house and wards in this very room to stop the boy from using powerful spells. The boy did after all did not arrive expectantly. He was an unwanted surprise.

It was however interesting, though, that Lord Grindelwald had also known the whereabouts of his house. Dumbledore was also Severus's Secret Keeper, before the Dark Lord insisted that his army select him to guard their locations. Severus couldn't refuse for obvious reasons. Powerful adjustments had been made to the charm to allow the Dark Lord to know.

There's no doubt that the old headmaster had given Grindelwald the information. But why? It incensed him greatly. He had no right to put Severus into far greater danger than he was in already. Now, he had to protect himself from Grindelwald. And what was the headmaster up too with Lord Grindelwald, the wizard he had defeated sixty years before? All that Dumbledore had told him was that he had helped Grindelwald escape.

"Potter do you remember anyone odd in Azkaban, before your escape?"

"You know the usual story, a strange cloaked figure, hidden in shadows before he makes his daring move…" Potter waved his hand around. "No of course I don't! I was stuck in a dark cell, when my chains were suddenly unleased. The door clicked open and the Atoners guarding the corridor were all dead or unconscious."

"I think I know who had helped you."

Potter blinked straightening up on the pillows again. "Go on…"

"Grindelwald."

The boy glared at him before laughing out. "What? Why the hell would he do that?"

"Yes why? I'd like to know that as well." Severus remembered Grindelwald prance about Potter's bed, twisting his goatee. He did not say a word for awhile, but seemed content to stare at the boy. There was an air of frivolity and invincibility to the wizard, like his years in prison did not affect him one bit. He left just as quickly as he had arrived. Like a mirage.

Straight after, Severus sent Dumbledore an angry message. There had been no reply as of yet.

Potter rubbed his temples. "I now have a headache and I'm really tired. I want you to leave!"

Severus did not move.

"Do you mind?" Potter yelled in frustration.

"Yes I do mind, ever since you knocked on my front door!"

Scowling, Potter watched as Severus snapped his black robes back, striding across the bedroom to the door. "Tomorrow, you'll start walking and regaining strength in that pathetic body of yours."

"Why are you taking care of me like this?"

"It is the Dark Lord's order."

"Does it have something to do with my mother?"

Severus turned around slowly, hands clenching and unclenching. "That's for me to know and for you to never find out."

**Please review. Thanks for reading.**


	11. A Rocky Start

**Chapter 10**

**A Rocky Start**

It was late morning before Harry could get his words through to Aunt Petunia, who had since his arrival been throwing objects and various sharp utensils at his head. Harry couldn't blame her for thinking he was some crazed murderer like his Mirror Double, but times were desperate and for the sake of the Pettigrew's children he needed refuge.

Bur Harry continued having challenges with his Aunt Petunia. Not only was he avoiding various projectiles, Aunt Petunia's small pet dog continued to bark, at one stage biting his shin, before he managed to shove the canine into the cupboard under the stairs. The only reason the neighbours didn't come calling was because Harry had discreetly placed a silencing charm around the house.

"Aunt Petunia, please!" Harry pleaded as he ducked, avoiding a collision with a large figurine. It smashed in the hallway. Before Petunia could throw something else, he managed to make his way into the kitchen, where his aunt now wielded a large knife in one hand and a fish casserole in the other.

"You're here to kill me and my family," she yelled, holding a casserole above her head.

Her eyes were bulging, and her horsey face displayed so much fear that it made Harry recoil. He had seen fear in the Dursleys whenever anything magic waved itself under their noses, and when Dudley had almost been killed by a Dementor. This fear, however, was worse.

"No, really, I'm just here because those children you saw are hungry, scared and injured," He calmly stated. _And I just need some time to think about things_, Harry breathed, eyeing the dish. "Look, you know Harry is dangerous-"

"Harry? HARRY? YOU ARE HARRY!" Petunia screamed, chucking the casserole.

Harry jumped out of the way, colliding side-on with the fridge. The dish left a large dent on the wall, but failed to even shatter. Frustrated and feeling more alone than ever, he watched Petunia grab a handful of utensils, holding a fork as if she was about to play darts.

He ran a clammy hand through his hair. "_I'm not_- it's a long story. If I was really here to kill you I would have done it already! Throwing plates and knives wouldn't be a match for any wizard."

Aunt Petunia scowled at the word.

_Some things just never change_, Harry thought. "Please… have some heart, their names are Ashley and Tony. You have seen their faces. They need help."

"The-they're _freaks_ like you!" she spat, a meat cleaver now dangling precariously above her head.

"Magical like me, yes," Harry replied, using a kinder word, "but they're still little children."

Aunt Petunia huffed, she seemed like she was about to argue that fact, however, she bit her tongue, refraining.

Harry pursued, feeling like he was finally getting through to her. "Even, even though you hate me, you'd still patch me up when I'd hurt myself," Harry said, with slight bitterness. When he meant that she would patch him up as a small boy, like a grazed knee or a cut, Aunt Petunia would begrudgingly pull him up on the table, pound disinfectant onto the wound, then would slap on a bandaid before shooing him out to do his chores again. Meanwhile, if the same had happened to Dudley, she'd bundle him up in bandages and rush him off the A&E department. Harry couldn't pretend that he hadn't felt a sense of hurt and envy at the fact that his cousin had a mother who loved him.

Petunia narrowed her eyes. "I've never—"

"Still, it's a long story. But if it _ever_ did happen, you would help me." He never felt like using the Imperious Curse on anyone until now. It would be so easy…

"I would never help any freak—"

"The point is,' Harry interrupted, determined to break through the barriers she put up. "I'm asking you for your help, politely. So what will it be? Will you give it to us?" God, Harry hoped she would. "Please? You might hate to help me, but I know you'd do it because deep down… deep down I know you must love your sister," Harry added quickly, bluffing his way through.

After a moment that seemed like an eternity, which Petunia seemed to purse all the blood out of her lips, she banged the cleaver onto the kitchen counter and gave Harry a piercing look. "I don't trust you."

"You don't have too." Harry held his breath.

There was another long pause, which made Harry want to lash out, to beg, to do anything to stay safely under her roof. He briefly thought if his mother's love still protected him in this world even though he was of age.

"Fine! I'll let _you_ and those _freaks_ stay here until Vernon and Dudders return from Australia in two weeks time. I'll be watching you! If you dare try and kill me, I'll call the police, and I'll be armed."

"That's fair." Though Harry knew she'd be no match against any sort of magical attack. "Thank you."

"I have a few conditions."

Harry grimaced. "Sure, whatever..."

"I don't want the three of you to set foot outside the house. Don't make so much noise. And no freakiness what so ever, you understand?"

They weren't going to disobey her, not until Harry learned more about this world. "Yes. Thanks. Thank you so much."

Petunia gave him a side-ways glance, a look that screamed of mistrust. "I'm only doing this because you saved Dudley's life last year."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I did?"

"Yes," she snapped, "from those Death people remember? A week after your brother died. They tormented us, the entire street, and Dudders was flung about and then one of them propelled him hundred feet into the air and dropped him. That's when you appeared, took off your ghastly skull mask, and saved my baby from hitting the ground. It was horrible. They killed his girlfriend…" There were tears falling from her face now. "My poor Dudders, he hasn't been the same since that day. He's been in and out of school ever since."

Harry was very confused. Why kill his brother one day and save Dudley's life the next? It made no sense whatsoever. Something just wasn't right. But he didn't have time to investigate. Hermione and Ron would've had a new mystery to help him investigate if they were here, though on second thoughts, Hermione would say his priorities were wrong and to find a way home first.

"I never believed you did it anyway. But your world is not normal."

Harry had to sit down he was feeling a little light-headed. He wasn't sure if it was hunger or shock.

"What happened after the attack, were you helped?"

Petunia sniffled, "We had both _your_ people and the government fix things up here. Came as a shock that the British Government knew what was really behind all the attacks and this damnable mist… We weren't allowed to live in our houses until all it was all cleared of magic and those Dementeds that patrolled afterwards… Mr Dumbledore helped us for awhile…"

Harry wanted to ask if she had voiced her opinion on Mirror Harry to Dumbledore, like she had told Harry just now, but Petunia continued to speak.

"…The three of you can use the spare bedroom upstairs."

Harry nodded, as she explained where the room was and the bathroom and so on. He knew where everything thing was, right down to the three wishes he had etched into one of the wooden beams in the cupboard under the stairs as a child. The memories came flooding back.

_My Three Wishes_

_Number one: I wish mummy and daddy are alive again. _

_Number two: I wish Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and Dudley are nice to me and that I had some friends._

_Number three: I wish my clothes would fit me and I had a little bit more food._

Harry's fingers clenched the chair he sat on. Wishes, he thought. For so long he had wished to see his mother in flesh and the green eyes he had inherited. He had wished for his mother to hold him in her arms. Now that that opportunity had come, he felt so hollow, so dead inside. He had not expected a world that feared and hated him so much.

Aunt Petunia eyed him suspiciously as she then she opened a cabinet and produced a large first aid kit which she dumped onto the table. "Here! I'll give you shelter and food, but don't expect me to mend their wounds."

"Ok," Harry said. He wasn't going to push Petunia's hospitality any more than she wanted too. He spotted a picture of Dudley as a baby hanging on the wall, behind his aunt. Dudley grew up as a fat whale of a boy, just the same as in his world and Harry guessed just as spoilt.

He just didn't feel like talking anymore as his mind drifted off again, trying to decipher a million questions and reeling over stories he's heard so far.

…_Dumbledore loses a battle against Voldemort… __Harry leaves Hogwarts weeks Hogwarts closes, returning right before the Chamber of Secrets is opened, turns Death Eater and murderer in the space of a few weeks. Meanwhile, he saves his cousin - a Muggle - whom Death Eaters despise and then kills his own brother…. It just doesn't add up…_ he thought.

Harry started when Petunia snapped her fingers, exasperated by his lack of attention. "Have you been listening to a word I've said?"

Before Harry could reply, there was a tentative knock on the kitchen door. "Ha-Harry?" squeaked Ashley. "Is everything ok?"

He walked over to her while Petunia stepped as far away as possible from the child. Ashley could sense the distaste and fear from the woman and bowed her head. "I don't like her," she whispered.

Harry smiled lightly, whispering, "Me neither, but she's our only chance of refuge at the moment. She said we can stay as long as we're quiet and cause no trouble." He looked up and found Tony sitting on the stairs, watching him in the dark. "Come on," said Harry.

He picked up the first aid kit and ushered Ashley towards the stairs to where her brother was. The dog that was still in the cupboard started growling again. Harry kicked the door in response.

Climbing the stairs felt like an arduous chore, especially for the children who were so exhausted. Halfway up, Petunia stepped into the hallway staring up.

"Wait…"

"Yes?" _What now?_ He thought.

She opened her mouth, though nothing came out. Harry could tell that she wanted to say something important. It was the exact same expression she displayed months ago when he had seen Aunt Petunia for the last time, before they were taken to a safe location. He knew she wanted to say something then, but he didn't press her for the information.

"Never mind."

After showing Ashley and Tony the spare bedroom, Harry opened the bathroom door. It finally seemed like the light at the end of a tunnel. Tony gingerly sat on the bathtub, while Ashley looked around the ghastly kitsch pink tiles and shower curtains.

"She's a weird woman," Tony said, eyeing Harry.

"She's just frightened of us."

Ashley turned on the tap in the sink and started to drink the water. Harry couldn't help but feel disgust at the state of the children, he felt as though he was seeing them for the very first time. They were filthy. Their wounds and scars caked under a layer of dirt and blood. They were so starved, their eyes showing no hint of joy or happiness, just darkness in a pit made of terror.

Harry took a hand towel from the rack and soaked it in warm running water. He sat Ashley down and carefully removed the muck from her face. He tried to do the same for Tony, though the boy struggled for a while and eventually Harry gave up. The children waited expectantly for what he would do next.

"I'll get some clothes while you two get washed." They nodded. As Harry left the bathroom the children began to undress with uncertainty in their faces.

It took awhile before Harry could find some suitable clothes for them to wear, even with Aunt Petunia's reluctant help. Boxes of Dudley's old shoes and clothes from when he was a boy were in a cupboard. Two of Dudley's enormous shirts would be enough for the children's nightwear. Harry made up the bed for them, in the smallest bedroom of the house, his old bedroom, while he was content with sleeping on the floor.

He was waiting outside of the bathroom when the door creaked open. "Harry," Tony said. "We're done."

Harry saw steam rushing upwards from the boy's cleaned body. Tony hugged the fluffy white towel as it cocooned him in safety and warmth. He looked so fragile without the grime. He looked much better, however; the scars were vivid and shocking. The boy seemed very self conscience about it.

"Don't look at me like that," he stated, disappearing into the bathroom again.

"Ok." Harry stepped in. He was engulfed in a cloud of steam and heat. The children clung to each other in their towels. He placed the pile of clothes on the stool and unlocked the first aid kit before starting to treat their many wounds.

The children scrunched their faces as Harry cleaned cuts and deep grazes, dabbed Betadine and ointment and lastly dressed them in bandaids and bandages. "Do you have any broken bones?" Harry asked.

Tony shook his head, speaking for his sister as well. "Is there magic you could use? We haven't had any training in it."

"No, I'm afraid I didn't learn how to heal with magic, sorry. I just know the Muggle way of things. If Hermione was here, she would've fished out her bottle of Dittany from her bag. That stuff helps a lot."

"Oh…" The boy was disappointed.

"Who's Hermione?" Ashley asked.

Harry smiled. "She's the cleverest witch in my year and one of my best friends." His voice drifted off, thinking about Hermione made him sad.

Tony cleared his throat. "I thought, maybe, you could help me with these scars." He touched his face lightly, wincing.

Harry kept quiet, in truth he didn't have anything to say about it. He wished he could help, but he wasn't sure if there was anything to help the boy.

"Tony, are you blind in your right eye?"

The boy nodded. His right eye was white and cloudy, just like Jessica's.

Harry searched his tormented face. He looked like Peter, the more Harry reflected. The boy's nose was like his father's and his good eye a watery blue. The hair that grew on the unburnt side of his face was blonde. "What happened to you?"

"They burnt him," Ashley spoke this time. "They burnt him because he didn't bow to Bellatrix." The girl started to cry. "It was horrible."

"Shut up, Ash!" The boy growled, pulling up the harsh defences that Harry had noticed when he first met them. "Just stop crying, you big cry baby. That's all you're ever good at: crying and doing what everyone says!"

"Hey, you shouldn't talk to her like that! She cares about you, Tony."

"I want to get dressed now." Tony yanked a shirt and pulled it on, before slipping out into the spare bedroom.

Ashley sniffled, staring at the doorway, hoping her brother would enter again. He never did. "He's always mean to me," she murmured, rubbing her red puffy eyes.

"Maybe he worries about you too much. He's just trying his best to be protective of you."

She shrugged at his answer.

Harry smoothed a dressing over her wrist. "I think you're done," Harry added, picking up the discarding packaging and swabs and chucking them into the little waste bin.

Ashley dressed herself and looked into the mirror as she stood on her toes. Unlike her bother, she did not look like Peter, except her blue eyes.

"What was your mother's name?"

"Orla. She was an Irish witch. She used to comb my hair every night," Ashley sighed, sadness washing over her face. "Harry, will my hair grow back?" She gingerly touched the bruises and scabs on her head. Her bristled brown hair was just beginning to peek out of her scalp.

"I think so," he replied. "Listen, you should get into bed. I'll bring up some lunch for you and your brother to eat a little later, all right?"

"Thanks Harry, thanks for everything. I thought you were bad, but I like you now."

Harry smiled, feeling like he was gaining her trust a little more. He was finally relieved someone in this dark new world could call him a friend, not a foe. "What does Tony think?"

Ashley frowned. "He still thinks you're up to no good." With her last words she left, leaving Harry alone in the bathroom.

It felt like a few minutes before Harry too stopped staring at himself in the mirror and undressed, stepping into the shower and just feeling the glorious warm water could bring upon his body. He missed a good soaking wash. He watched the brown water wash off - snaking off his limbs, and then spiralling into the drain. The scent of soap clung to nostrils like an old memory. He felt the tight knots in his neck uncoil a little as he massaged in the soap. It must have been all the pent up emotions the year had bundled up.

Inevitable, his mind drifted towards home. He quickly stopped, trying to blink away his thoughts of Ron and Hermione and Ginny, dear Ginny. In the end, he gave up. His thoughts turned towards the Weasleys, Remus and Tonks and everyone else. He wondered what they were doing and if they were doing and if they were still alive. He wondered how far Voldemort had gotten - the Horcruxes - how many had died. He wanted to, so desperately, find his way back home.

He had one world's burdens upon his shoulders. He knew he didn't have the strength to take on another's as well. He didn't want to. As soon as he found someone that can help him return to his own world, he will. Harry washed his face and turned off the taps. He rested his head on the tiles and listened to the dripping water. When he does return to his own world, he knew one thing for sure; he would miss seeing his mother alive again.

Next moment, Harry was dressed and standing in the doorway of the smallest bedroom at number four, with a plate of sandwiches in his hands. He couldn't even remember leaving the bathroom and making the food as he stood watching Pettigrew's children sleeping in the bed, arms entwined protectively over the other. They looked so peaceful, as children should be.

Harry bit into his sandwich, and suddenly he remembered how hungry he felt. The thought of corned beef never seemed more appealing than now. He sat down crossed legged by the bedside and ate, occasionally stopping when either of the children twitched or moaned from a bad dream. When Harry was done, he lay down on the floor, fluffed up a pillow and watched the cool misty sky through the lace curtains, before finally, exhaustion took its grip and he fell asleep.

But Harry's sleep was not peaceful.

_He stood in a dark house. The curtains were drawn, bathing the house in a dark red glow. Glimpses of Death Eaters fluttered within his dream. He saw Snape and Lucius Malfoy, whose left side of his face was deeply scarred, looking more menacing than in his own world. He saw Voldemort draped in a black cloak embroidered in gold, the hood so far down, that it covered every inch of his face except his chin. Voldemort's long white fingers snaked out of his robes pointing into Harry's direction. It was that moment Harry realised; he was seeing a vision through Mirror Harry's eyes. _

_Voldemort's laugh shattered the silence of Harry's dream. Harry bowed, and when he stood up, he saw himself in the mirror to his side, and thought he looked different and so tired of everything and everyone. He saw Snape notice, his dark eyes narrowed. Snape's hand pulled the gruff of Harry's neck and next, he was hurtled towards Voldemort's feet. The toe of the Dark Lord's dragon hide boot obliged Harry's chin up. Harry was forced to stare into Voldemort cold red eyes._

_There was something different about the Voldemort of this world. His features seemed greyish and brittle, his skin papery. He looked frailer, though his strength deceived this notion._

_It was that moment that blinding white pain coursed through Harry's entire body. Harry screamed and screamed, but there was no end to the agony. He wished he would die._

_The pain ended and Harry was given a blissful reprieve, though wary of the next wave of pain, he was sure to come soon._

_"Leave us," Voldemort hissed to Malfoy and Snape. The Death Eaters retreated, leaving Harry alone with his master._

_"You failed me, Harry… you failed to find it…"_

_"I sorry … I'll try better this time."_

_Voldemort cursed him again with a lazy flick of his wand._

_Harry screamed again._

Harry bolted upright. He instinctively touched the lightning bolt scar, tracing its very contours. It hadn't hurt an ounce since he had travelled into this Mirror Universe until now. Even with Voldemort right in the middle of his dream, his scar had not pained him as bad as those in his own world. It was a dull prickling sensation, like it had been the ghost of his real connection with the Dark Lord.

_Of course_, thought Harry, _how stupid am I? If I have a connection with Mirror Harry, I might as well have a connection with Mirror Voldemort… but, but wouldn't my connection stop with a different Voldemort if it had only been a link created by a backfired curse?…_Questions buzzed in his head like frenzied bees, but Harry didn't want to ponder more about the frightening ramifications of this connection for now in this world and more importantly in his own.

He sat up drenched in sweat. The room was glowing red from the setting sun.

The dream felt too real, it felt exactly like his visions with Voldemort in the past, yet this time he was not experiencing what Voldemort was.

He had been experiencing what this world's Harry had been seeing through his very eyes. That prospect feared him even more than Voldemort himself. He was used to Voldemort and his evils. The thought of looking through the eyes of his Mirrored Self sent shivers of horror through him. Harry didn't want to face the evil he had been capable of doing in this world. He remembered he had experienced a similar sort of vision while hiding out in the cave.

"Are you ok, Harry?" Ashley asked.

He looked over to find Ashley staring with big blue eyes. He moved his fingers away from the scar. "Yes, I'm fine. It was just a bad dream."

The little girl grimaced, averting her eyes. "I have plenty of those."

"Nothing to worry…"

Harry tucked the little girl in, and then making sure Tony was asleep as well. He stepped outside the room. He didn't want to sleep again, and watch this world's Harry being tortured. The dull ache in his scar did not subside. Voldemort was severely angry with his Mirror. Harry gripped the balustrade as a strange wave of dull pain pulsed through his chest. He could almost feel the pain of the Cruciatus Curse as well.

He made his way through the Dursley's house. He heard his aunt chopping vegetables up in the kitchen rather vigorously. The little dog in the hallway growled at his approach.

She turned around, holding the knife up when he entered.

"What do you want now?" she snapped.

He gripped the table as that strange feeling overcame him again. "Nothing."

"_Hmmpfh_! You look like you need a cup of tea." She went back to hacking her vegetables for her stew and did not lift a single finger to put a kettle on the boil.

Harry needed to be distracted from the uneasy feelings and pain he felt. The glass and broken items had been cleared away. Harry would've offered to repair everything, but he knew his aunt would object. He used the opportunity for distractions to ask some questions that he hungered for answers.

"Are you ever in contact my mother?"

Petunia's knife paused. "No, not since-" She tensed. "I do not have contact with the freaks of your world."

"Er… how… how is Dudley?" He figured he should've started with a question that would've softened his aunt a little. But the thought his parents and their reactions consumed him.

Petunia grabbed a handful of chopped carrots and dropped them into the pot. She wiped her hands on her apron. "He has recovered from his injuries, but he was almost expelled from Smeltings. Vernon thought it was best to get him away from here, and take him somewhere for a holiday with lots of sunshine to harden him up again."

"Right…"

"Your people killed our neighbours, Dudley's friends and tortured many. We were so terrified. Out of all the streets in the world, why pick this one? Was it some sick joke from your side? What did you tell them to make them come here?" she spat.

"Aunt Petunia, they all know that I have Muggle relatives… It was inevitable." That was all he could say.

"I suppose... you did appear out of nowhere, save my boy, and ordered everyone to disappear. You tried to wake Dudley… I can never forget the look on your face, Harry."

"Why's that?"

"It was as though you were torn. I can't describe it…" Petunia closed her eyes. "It was as though you were half happy, half saddened. It was only a split second, but I could see it burning in your eyes… then you knocked me unconscious."

Harry didn't reply, but he could clearly sense the suspicion in his aunt.

"What happened to your brother?"

He couldn't answer that question. "I don't know. It's all a blur. It was the Death Eaters, not me," Harry lied.

"Hmm…" Petunia pursed her lips. "I went to your brother's funeral, against Vernon's wishes. That was the last I saw of your mother… she couldn't speak a single word." Petunia started to slice celery. "Your father almost cut my head off with his wand when I mentioned my doubts of you murdering your brother. And Mr Dumbledore said I had imagined things."

Harry blinked. He could definitely see that happening. Especially since Harry had been a victim of James's wrath. But Dumbledore saying that she imagined things was a little harsh.

"What's the Muggle- I mean - the world without us like here?"

"Horrible. This mist…" Petunia waved to the white foggy sky outside the kitchen window. "It has been a phenomenon in the U.K that has lasted for over ten years. It's quite rare that we get two days in a row without it, and some say it's getting worse and thicker. It's spreading to the continent. From what I heard from your lot, it's because of those Dementeds breeding."

"Dementors."

"Yes, whatever those beasts are!" she snapped. "Normal people are disappearing in record numbers. Others end up like vegetables or insane and children turn up dead- bitten to shreds. Then there's the terrorism: Homes, buildings destroyed burnt.

"Police are mystified. But the Government knows and is terrified – but they made up a story that it's terrorism and bioterrorism from groups within the country.

"Three Prime Ministers have disappeared two have been killed in the last twenty-eight years. People are scared and leaving the UK in droves, and there's a curfew after dark. In many cities the army has been employed to keep the streets safe. What good are tanks, when they're dealing with your lot?

"But I know what they don't! Many don't dare venture out of their homes in fear. And every night, somewhere, there's more than one green firework that brightens the sky. It is a ghastly green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. Underneath this mark, a dead person or family lie. It's mass murder! It's genocide of the Normal folk." She pointed her finger into Harry's direction. "It's your people destroying our world!"

So this is life if Neville had died and if Voldemort had never been vanquished. Harry was shivering. He felt the misery and felt the sudden terror of the world chocking him. "That's just horrible."

She laughed, "HA! What an understatement." Petunia stirred the pot, the gentle steam giving off a pleasant savoury aroma. "Now, if you please, I'd like to enjoy my dinner alone."

Harry did not want to intrude his stay in the kitchen any longer. He had gotten a bit more information about this world and felt as though he was less in the dark about things. He returned to his bedroom, and stayed awake as long as possible, not wanting to experience his double's torture anymore.

* * *

It was midnight at Godric's Hallow when a piercing scream echoed throughout the house. Lily bolted out of bed, her hair clinging to her face with sweat. But James had gotten to their bedroom door first, and sprinted across the hallway. Lily's heart was pounding and she feared for the worst. "Harry, oh God, don't let him take another baby away from me," she said out loud.

Instead, as James opened Christopher's room, wand in hand, there was no Harry, or Death Eater or Voldemort around. It was Jessica who stood at the foot of their son's bed and Chris was yelling at the top of his lungs.

Michael pushed past James in his bid to protect his brother from unknown forces, but he stopped, staring first at his brother, then his sister, the tension in his shoulders released and he rolled his eyes. "Oh well, gee, thanks for waking me up Chris."

"Shut up!" Chris shouted, pointing at Jessica, "she was muttering a spell at me!"

James raised an eyebrow as he lifted his little girl into his arms, pulling her dark hair from her eyes. "Is that true, Jess, were you muttering an incantation?"

Lily sat on Chris's bed, and held the shaking boy in her arms. Her eyes though, focused on her daughter.

"I thought she was a Death Eater!" His eyes were wide like saucers, not a trace of sleep still in them.

Jessica shook her head, her hair flying about. "I'm a good girl. I'm a good girl, daddy…" She burst into tears, and hid her face in the crook of his shoulder. "I-I was just trying to protect him."

"Protect him from what, darling. That's mummy and daddy's job. Your job is to not worry what grown ups are doing," Lily spoke softly, wiping a tear away.

James sighed, completely confused as Lily could see. How very strange she thought.

"This is all Harry's fault," Michael spat as he left the room. He slammed his bedroom door shut.

Lily couldn't, however, shake the feeling that something was very wrong. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. She squeezed her son's shoulder.

Half an hour, four cups of strong teas and two firewhiskey's later; Lily tucked in her daughter into bed, and kissed her forehead. She was about to leave when she heard her little girls soft voice. "Mummy."

"Yes, dear?"

"If I was bad, would you put me in Azkaban?"

"Oh, no, sweetheart! I wouldn't do that to you. I'd protect you from all of that."

"But you didn't protect Harry."

Lily felt her heart squeeze. How could she answer that question? But in a way, Jessica had been right, why didn't she protect Harry? She was his mother; she should've noticed something amiss in her son before he killed. She should've noticed how secretive he had gotten; how his sparkling, happy green eyes, became masked to the point Lily could not see the son she knew as a little boy behind them. Why didn't she notice how quiet, so desolate Harry had became, that not even a joke would stir humour in him? Lily wanted to punish herself for never noticing the subtle changes for what they were. She was too busy with the Order, protecting everyone else, that in the end she failed to protect her own children.

Lily was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she could not remember ever getting back into bed, but as she lay there, she could tell that James was nowhere near sleep yet.

"James?'

"Hmmm?"

The darkness between them felt thick all of a sudden.

"I'm worried about Jessica." When James didn't reply, Lily continued. "We should take her to St Mungo's—"

"Right, Lily… if you even set foot into St Mungo's, Voldemort will kill you."

"Honestly Ja-"

"What makes you so special? Remember, you rescued those poor children from Malfoy Manor? Voldemort hasn't forgotten that. And might I add, without approval by the Order in the first place."

Lily knew James had never forgotten the incident where she had found out that a group of Muggle-born children were held captive, after receiving fake Hogwarts Letters. They were told to meet at a certain place only to be abducted, conditioned, and made into slaves for pure-blood families. Meanwhile, their Muggle families had no idea what had happened to them and the police were stumped for clues.

Dumbledore had refused to raid the Malfoys, falling deaf ears to Lily's protests. In the end, she banded a few of Order members, all mothers, and rescued the children themselves. Dumbledore had been angry, but at the same time was pleased that they were safe. The children stayed within several Order Members' Houses, being treated for their injuries, before returning to their families, with a promise that they would be taught magic in their homes, after necessary protection was added.

"I don't think that will happen."

"HA! Remember what happened to Gladys Harrigan?" James said, shifting his weight to face his wife in the dark. "Mother to that poor boy we found dead in Cumbria? Do you know what Greyback did to him just because the boy escaped from Voldemort's so called indoctrination? His Mother went into hysterics when she found out… Greyback snuffed her in the end too and dropped whatever was left of her corpse in front of the Ministry with a warning letter nailed to her forehead to all mothers out there."

"I don't want to hear anymore, James-" Lily closed her eyes.

"I just want to know, why you think you can save everyone. I've lost two sons already, I don't want to lose you too.

"Severus won't let that happen to me."

James's mouth opened in shock. For a wild moment, Lily thought he might do something drastic and violent. Lily hadn't spoken about Severus to James since they had found out he was made Potions Master at Hogwarts, eighteen years previously.

But James suddenly roared in laughter. "What, Snape protecting you from the Ministry? Oh my God, Lily!"

Lily flared, heat rising to her cheeks. "Just because Severus hates your guts for all the abuse you put him through, doesn't mean he would betray me—"

James flung his sheets over and started pacing the bedroom. "Right, let me get this straight, Lily…" Even though it was dark, Lily could see him running his hands through his hair. "I know you had a strange relationship with Snivelus as a kid, but are you still in contact with him?"

Lily did not answer.

"Jesus, Lily, are you fucking mad?" James hissed. He was trying not to wake up his three children.

"James—"

"Are you having an affair with him?" he asked without consideration.

"NO!" Lily shouted, undignified. Her heart was pounding. "How dare you even consider that!"

"Why then?"

"Because, Sev, is my only link to Harry!" There, she finally said it. Their correspondences, which had started as soon as Harry had been imprisoned, were always short and sharp, but it still felt like a dirty secret, a betrayal to James.

James was stunned and sat limply onto the bed. Lily bit her lip; she wasn't sure what to do now and how to console her husband. She wasn't sorry for her actions one bit.

"I-I just want to be kept updated with what Harry is up to-"

"I don't want to talk about him," James yelled, lashing back and standing up over his wife. "He's not my son anymore! And cut any link with that _snake_, Lily! I never want you talking to Snape ever again!"

James marched out of their bedroom, and Lily feeling hot tears well in her eyes. She didn't have the energy to chase after him.

"Bloody hell!" She heard Michael yell from across the corridor. "Can't anyone get some sleep tonight?"

**Stay tuned to Chapter 11 and please, don't forget to review. :)**


	12. No Time to Loose

**Chapter 11 updated 6/7/12**

**Chapter 11**

**No Time to Loose**

At Spinners End, Severus walked into the living room to find Potter sleeping on the couch. He watched the boy as a cat would, eying a mouse. Every so often the boy would twitch. It was a side effect from too many hits of the Cruciatius Curse. The Dark Lord has been insistent on teaching the boy a lesson about not getting caught and respecting other people's properties and so, felt fit to administer the punishment himself while Lucius Malfoy and Severus had helped.

When the Dark Lord and Lucius had departed, Potter lay motionless on the floor, his black robes twisted and splayed as he had thrashed in pain minutes before. Severus checked the boy's pupils for movement and it was that moment that the boy laughed. It was not a laugh of amusement, but one of pure hysterics. He almost thought the boy had turned mad… as many other victims of the curse had had before him

"_What's the matter?" Severus yelled, shaking the boy by the shoulders. _

_Potter continued to laugh, his eyes squeezed shut. His chuckles rung through the house like a ghastly bell. It even frightened the house elf._

"_Stop it! Stop this now."_

_Potter looked up, staring at the ceiling. He twitched and dry retched onto Severus's antique Armenian rug. Green spittle stretched from his mouth onto the rug._

"_You're ill." Severus tried to help the boy stand. He was more worried about the priceless rug, which has once belonged to an Armenian wizard prince. But Potter retaliated, lashing out._

"_GET OFF ME!" he screamed. He staggered upright, unstable on his own two feet. "I don't need your fucking help."_

"_Is that so?" Severus softly asked. "Then get out of my house."_

_Potter turned, readjusting his robe and almost falling over from another violent and painful twitch. "Don't look at me." He breathed heavily, clutching the couch, bent on his knees. He rested his forehead on couch, taking a moment to regain his strength._

"_Your father always made it his mission to make sure everyone looked at me when he humiliated me. I was always his sick entertainment." _

"_Yes. I bet you enjoyed that little display, then. I noticed that your Cruciatius was the longest." Potter spat. "Mind you, after Azkaban that… that paled in comparison." _

_The boy laughed again, though, Severus soon realised that his laugh had turned to sobs. He retreated from the living room to let Potter wallow in his own misery. He did not offer anymore assistance accept to throw a blanket over the boy when he had fallen asleep on the couch. _

"Are you awake?"

Potter yawned. "Obviously."

"You've overslept," Severus said. "I have work for you."

"What sort?" Potter sat up, stretching his skinny limbs and ruffling his insatiable hair. "The Dark Lord has a duty for me?"

Severus sneered. "No. Housework." He enjoyed the boy's expression of horror.

"How dare—"

Severus whipped the boy's hair back so fast, he almost snapped his head off. "Whilst you sit your bony arse in my house, you will do. Every. Little. Thing. I. Say. Do you understand?" He was sick of him. Sick of his insolent behaviour, sick of the damn way he cocked his eyebrow, just like his father, and the way his raven hair stuck up. Everything about Potter was sinking under his skin like poisoned needles.

Potter's Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

Severus shook the boy by the hair. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"YES!"

He let go of the boy and fished out a list of chores as the boy massaged his scalp and neck. Severus didn't bother reading the note; he just threw the piece of paper onto Potter's lap.

Three hours had past before Snape inspected the boy's progress.

Potter sat cleaning out a dirty cauldron filled with crusted layers of dead flobberworms. Wand work wouldn't help since the slugs seemed impenetrable with magic. He had another ten cauldrons to do, all in the same sorry state. Severus sniffed the cauldrons as Potter stretched his fingers.

Severus smirked and pointed out that he had missed several spots and to clean it again, but this time more vigorously.

"This is house elf work, Snape. I'm not some stupid little servant of yours!" Potter spat.

Severus raised his eyebrows, his arms crossed over his black long robes. "This pains me to tell you, but there was a time in your distant past when you actually treated house elves with respect and curtesy." Power had skewed Potter beyond his recognisable self, Severus thought.

"And since when have _you_ cared about house elves?"

"It's a simple fact, Potter: they're worth more than you are. Continue cleaning," he exasperated, waving his hand around. "I will return in an hour."

He heard the boy growl and next, he felt something smack his back. Severus looked down to see the putrid rag Potter was using to clean the cauldrons. It would take several washes to get the smell out of his robes now.

"Pick. It. Up." His voice was silky, yet deadly enough to make Potter shiver.

"And if I don't?" the boy dared ask.

Severus pulled out his wand. "Well then, cleaning cauldrons will be the last thing you ever do with your hands. Pick it up." He repeated. "_NOW_!"

Potter was becoming more bold and unreasonable as he recovered from his imprisonment in Azkaban. Was he testing Severus for weakness? Was he raging against his maltreatment?

The boy's hands twitched towards the rag, but hesitated, then pulled back in defiance. Severus raised his wand, he was furious. He whipped his wand into the air, ready to curse, but was distracted by the sudden doorbell ringing across the house. He cursed loudly under his breath and shoved his wand back into his robes.

Severus entered the hallway to find his house elf being kicked aside by Bellatrix Lestrange. Her sister Narcissa Malfoy followed behind.

"Severus, so good to see you," Narcissa purred, gripping Severus's arm.

"Where is he?" Bella asked, heavily hooded eyes searching the living room, hallway and beyond.

Severus nodded curtly, ignoring Bella's outburst. So uncontrolled and hideous, he thought. "And what pleasure do I owe you for this visit?"

He observed Bellatrix suspiciously as she opened door after door in her search.

Over the last few days, he has had more visitors than he's ever had in his entire lifetime. He was starting to miss the quiet solitude of Spinner's End.

"Where's that little half-blood thief! He stole my children from me. I want to _kill _him!"

"Do you think that's wise?" Snape asked in return. "Considering he is still the Dark Lord's favourite."

"I tried to stop her, Severus, but-"

"Shut up, Cissy!"

"It's wise to listen to your sister once in awhile."

"Where's that filthy traitor?"

"The Dark Lord will be displea—"

"We are not his equals, Snape," Bella hissed, "we are above him in the circle now, back where we belong, beside our dear master… Making Potter his right hander was a glitch as far as I'm concerned, a grave mistake."

"The Dark Lord says Potter—"

"I DON'T CARE!"

"Yes you do, Bella. You feel betrayed by our master, don't you, for letting Potter get away with such treason?"

"I was his dearest! I! I will always be. Those children were MINE!" Bella gritted, pounded her chest.

"We will get you some new toys, Bella," said Narcissa, patting her sister's shoulder. "Draco will help you."

But Bellatrix shrugged her away. "I want these ones, Cissy! Their parents killed my husband. I want them back."

An uneasy silence followed as the Death Eaters stood rooted on the spot; Bellatrix breathing heavily, Narcissa looking bored with her sister's behaviour. Severus did not want blood shed in his house.

"Oh, it's just you, Bellatrix… I thought it was a screaming banshee," Potter walked bravely into the room, staring Bellatrix in the eye.

Severus grimaced. _Idiot,_ he thought. He could've handled the situation without the boy. He touched his wand, ready to intervene.

Bellatrix suddenly launched at Potter, fingers grasping his robes, their noses almost touching.

"Where's my brood? What have you done with them? There are rumours circulating..."

"They're safe."

"Bring them to me."

"I can't at the moment."

"You can't or you won't." Bella shook him. "You'll bring to me or I shall pick off your family, one by one. I'll leave the best till last, you – my troubled boy – I will disembowel you, and I'll torch your innards while you watch."

Potter smirked, blazing green eyes locking onto the greys. "Bella, that's my job to finish my family off. The Dark Lord said so."

"Then what are you waiting for?" she mocked. "Perhaps I shall let your sister live. Perhaps I might even condition her."

"YOU'LL LEAVE HER ALONE!" the boy screamed, fingers encircled around Bellatrix's throat.

She did not recoil as Severus expected her too, but her eyes flashed with excitement. She seemed to absolutely love this moment of hatred thrive on it, as a plant would in sunshine. Then she whispered something to the boy, which Severus could not quite catch and watched as she forcibly opened his mouth with her own, her tongue dipping in.

Potter drew back, outraged, "YOU DARE?" He smacked the witch against the wall, holding her neck up, her feet dangling slightly, other arm wiping his mouth. Bellatrix looked down at his furious face, a smile playing on her lips.

"Now, now…" Severus interrupted, prising Harry's fingers from Bella's neck. "Potter will bring the children here. Will that satisfy you? I would like to see them myself," he added. Potter clenched his jaw.

Bellatrix tore her eyes from the boy and let herself go of his robes. "For now I'm satisfied. I shall return in nine days." She whipped around, her hair stinging Severus's face.

Severus saw that he boy glimpsed the grandfather clock near the fireplace. A fleeting moment of concern flew across his face.

Nine days counting from now.

* * *

At number four Privet Drive, in the smallest bedroom, sleeping on the floor laid Harry Potter, the dimensional intruder in this world he had stumbled into. His sleepy eyes finally opened to see the sun shining brightly into the bedroom. He didn't know how long he had slept for. All he knew was that he had stayed awake and alert for half the night thinking, planning and watching for anyone suspicious out the window. He propped up on his pillow, sleepy-eyed and found that the bed where Ashley and Tony slept was made up, and the children nowhere to be seen.

Harry staggered upright and rushed out of the room. He hoped they didn't run off. But hearing their voices downstairs in the kitchen, Harry jumped the last six stairs and was relieved to see them eating breakfast, while Aunt Petunia washed the dishes.

Ashley looked up from a glass of milk and beamed. "Harry! You're awake."

Harry half-heartedly smiled and noticed that Aunt Petunia had stopped washing the dishes to stare at him. Her dog growled defensively near the doorway.

Tony gave him a quick glance, "finally," he said, before he continued eating his toast.

"Er… how long was I asleep?" Harry asked, gingerly taking a seat at the table. Then he helped himself to some toast and some bacon, eggs and sausages. He had more food to eat than he ever had at the Dursleys.

"A few days," Aunt Petunia replied curtly. "Since you're awake now, I will be doing some grocery shopping. So no funny business while I'm out."

Harry couldn't help but smile at the familiarity of the scene. Just like home, he thought. Petunia wiped the sink clean and folded her pink gloves as she craned her neck to see next door's backyard through her kitchen window.

Harry gulped on his toast when he noticed that Ashley was staring avidly at him with a little milk moustache on her top lip.

"Did you two have a good rest?" asked Harry. Ashley and Tony nodded. "Good. You're both looking better and Ashley your hair is growing."

"Really?" the little girl cried, touching her head. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry was glad to see the girl happy for something in her life now, even something as little as growing hair. Though, his thoughts turned elsewhere instantly. "When my aunt goes, I would like to talk to you both," he whispered. Tony raised his eyebrows, while Ashley's new found smile vanished.

Harry felt fresh and energised now having been properly rested. He felt he was able to face this world and find out a way home. But in the meantime, he was able to enjoy a good feed. He stretched out his arms while he sat and ate, he almost felt brave enough to switch on the little TV that sat on the kitchen countertop, though he decided to wait till his aunt was safely out of the house.

Petunia walked into the kitchen as Harry washed his plate. He turned around, seeing her in the exact same salmon pink coat she had in his world. She stuffed some post into her handbag and pursed her lips at him. "Rememb—"

"No funny business… gotcha." Harry nodded.

And with a little _hmph_, her head held high, she took one last look at the house before leaving. It was as though she was making a mental note where everything was, just in case Harry happened to steal or destroy something, or heavens forbid, the entire house would crumble into ruins while she was out.

"Come along, Charles," Aunt Petunia called to her dog. She clasped the leash to his neck and off they went.

Harry closed the front door behind them and sighed, looking around the quiet house. It was the first time he had a proper chance to look at his Aunt's house. It looked almost the same, except for tiny differences, like the curtains, and different photographs of the family and obviously the addition of the dog. Dudley looked the same as a baby, like a pink beach ball, but the pictures slowly morphed into a big burly teenager wearing dirty red and white rugby gear and holding up a trophy. There was another picture of Dudley wearing a suit and tie, his arms around a lovely blonde-haired girl, who was wearing a pretty dress.

Then he walked into the hall, spotting the Dursleys digital telephone. He held it in his hand, and wondered whether he should or shouldn't. But he began to dial the number that was in his head. His heart pounding, he waited for someone to pick up the phone, but no one did, instead the answering machine spoke. Harry's heart fluttered as he heard the familiar fast voice he missed.

"Hello, you've reached the Grangers' residence. We're not here at the moment, but please leave a message after the beep... '_beeeeeeeep_.'" Harry was about to speak, when Hermione's voice spoke again. "If you can hear this, then you are genuinely worried about my welfare and the welfare of my family. I want to let you know that we are safe and sound in Australia, and I've enrolled at the Queen Victoria Institute of Magic. The Q.V.I.M. is one of the absolute best schools of magic in the Southern Hemisphere. It's a great place and no one cares if you're a pure-blood or a Muggle-born.

"We'll be back when the war is over, but for now … good luck and stay safe… we all need it._"Beeeeeeeep_.' "

Harry stood with his mouth open, placed the phone down on the receiver and looked at the pink wallpapered wall straight ahead. Harry ached for his best friend's companionship. She'd know what to do. She always did, especially now when he needed her most, Harry thought. But at least, in this world she was safe with her family. Safe as a Muggle-born could be. He wondered what she and Ron were doing back in his own world. He wondered what the Ron in this world was like and if they'd ever been friends.

He moved on and opened up the cupboard under the stairs, which was filled with golf clubs and shoes, and two dangling spiders. He closed the door and found Ashley twiddling her thumbs behind him; Tony stood against the wall. Both were waiting for him.

"What do you want to talk about? What's going to happen now?" Tony asked. "We can't stay here forever. Your aunt's already told us a million times while you slept."

"Come on, let's sit." Harry motioned them towards the living room. The children sat while Harry paced up and down, pausing every so often to look out of the window at the nicely manicured lawns of Privet Drive. When he looked out the second time, he found two owls sitting on the lamp post. Just then, the tawny one flew off.

"Harry?"

Harry tore his thoughts away from the owls. "I've been thinking a lot…" Harry finally spoke. "I need to get back home, but first—"

"Your parents won't have you back!" Tony exclaimed.

Harry sighed, sitting on the edge of the armchair, facing the children. "I don't have any parents where I'm from. I want you to trust me, please. But to do that, I need to you my story from the beginning," Harry added when he saw Tony roll his eyes. "I-I haven't been entirely truthful from the start, but I will now if you're willing to hear me out."

Harry half expected the children to start screaming 'murderer, Death Eater, kidnapper,' but Tony cocked an eyebrow.

"Go on… tell us then. It's not like we've got anywhere else to go."

Always with the tone of resignation in his voice, Harry noticed.

Harry breathed deeply and began. "I'm Harry, yes, but a different Harry Potter. I'm from another dimension … a different world to this place. I'm not a Death Eater, I'm not a murderer. I'm just … me." Harry held his breath, because no one spoke, just stared into his face for a few tense moments. "I was in Rowena Ravenclaw's cave with my friends searching for an object-"

"Is Hogwarts opened in your world?" Ashley interrupted. Her face was full of hope.

"Yes. I hope it still is. At least it was when I accidentally came here, but it's full of bad people now."

The more he thought about Ravenclaw's secret hidey-hole, the more Harry was sure it wasn't an accident that he was sent here. He wanted the book he had travelled with back. It may shed some answers. "We have our own war to deal with."

"Is you world like ours, I mean with the war?"

"You believe him Ash?" Tony snorted.

"I do!" She stood up. "I believe him! He hasn't killed us or hurt us yet, and he took us to a Muggle. So, yeah, I do!"

Harry was relieved one person trusted him. "Look, I don't know what else I can do to make you believe in me; Tony, but I do have a scar on my head."

Tony shook his head. "You're supposed to be the Dark Lord's second in command. You're one of the best in the Dark Arts. You charmed yourself not to wear glasses, so you could be scarier, and as for that scar, you could've gotten it in Azkaban. Besides, Death Eaters hide their Dark Mark in public."

"What can I do to make you believe me?" Harry pleaded.

Tony thought for a moment. "Take us to your parents. My dad saved your dad's life, remember? It's about time James repaid him by looking after us."

"All right then." Harry nodded, though not sure how he was going to appear at his parent's house without being killed or sent to Azkaban. "I'll take you there. I need to get back my belongings. Then I need to find Dumbledore." This was going to take a bit of planning.

"Why?"

"I need to find a way home. I've got my own troubles to deal with."

"What about our world?" Ashley squeaked. "The other Harry is still going to be bad, you know." She was grasping to whatever little hope she had gained when he had rescued her and Tony. It really pained Harry that he was not the hero she was looking for to save their world.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know. There's so much I don't know about this place. I'm so different here." _And it scares me._ But how could he leave without doing anything, without helping the light? He was really torn on what to do.

* * *

Across a dark alleyway near Magnolia Crescent, a darkly hooded figure stood behind a weedy growth. This figure watched a woman, in a hideous pink coat; briskly walk down the street, her fluffy dog tagging behind. She kept looking over her shoulder, scared that someone was watching her.

She gingerly sat on a defiled bus stop shelter and seemed to be waiting for something. Then a tawny owl circled above the shelter and swooped in to sit on the bench beside the woman. She gave a little yelp, but the owl took no notice and stuck out its leg, waiting for something.

The woman stood up and after hesitating for a moment took a letter out of her bag. She fumbled as she fastened it to the owl. She looked as though she was accomplishing something quite unpleasant. The owl hooted and flew off again, heading east. She trotted off, seemingly relieved that that was over and done with.

Before the owl had gotten far enough in the sky, the hooded man raised his hand towards the bird and Imperioused it to turn back again and to give him the letter. The owl did so without struggle. Once the letter was handed over, he ripped it open.

_Dear Mr Dumbledore,_

_You told me to contact you if my nephew was seen in my neighbourhood again. Well, Harry is at my house in Privet Drive with two horribly scarred children. They are safe for the moment, but they can not stay for long._

_Petunia Dursley_

The figure crumbled the letter in his strained fist, and then dropped it into the bin where it had burst into flames. He stood still for a moment then suddenly he started to vanish, his body absorbing into the scenery. The shrubs rustled as though someone was pushing through them all the way to Privet Drive. He decided to wait and observe, and stake out for awhile.

* * *

It was almost dinner-time when Petunia entered the house, her dog barking beside her. She saw Harry's face and was relieved to see the house still intact. "Have you made dinner, yet? Don't expect me to feed those kids again."

"I have, they're fascinated by how your television works now." He smiled when he noticed his aunt cringe at the thought of them touching her family's property. "Don't worry they're sitting very still."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Harry sat with the children talking about things.

"I'm glad at least the Ministry hasn't been taken over yet."

"Oh but it almost had been. A couple of times, in the past, I mean," Tony replied. "But the Light Side would always fight back, winning back. At the moment the Light is running it, but it doesn't mean they're doing a good job and that they'll hold it for much longer. They treat everyone with suspicion and torture them just as bad as the Death Eaters. We've won a few, no doubt. Then there's _Dumbledore,"_ Tony spat (Harry noticed Tony's bitterness towards Dumbledore_),_ "who is getting weaker they say as the years go by."

Harry's memory of Dumbledore falling from the Astronomy tower hit him hard again. "Who do you think is winning?"

"I'm not sure. I'd say You Know Who is winning because, well, everyone is confused and scared with no one to turn to help them. He's got spies and alliances in Europe now, so You Know Who is very alive and well, killing and brain washing so he could get his perfect little world of purebloods, with the Muggles his slaves. But still… it feels as though we're getting nowhere. Maybe the entire Wizarding world will just die off."

"When you two were at the Lestranges, did you ever overhear anything about, Voldemort or about any plans?

Ashley shook her head; however Tony crinkled his nose, thinking hard. "They're worried…"

"Who? About what?" Harry straightened up.

Tony bit his lip. "I don't really know. Grindelwald is back, everyone's on edge, but they pretend they're not."

"He's back?" Harry blurted. He was very surprised.

The children nodded.

"OH! Death Eaters have started going missing," Ashley piped up. She was quite pleased she was able to help give Harry information. "Some have been found dead."

"Yeah, dead with this weird symbol carved in their cheek."

Harry guessed he knew what that symbol was. It would represent the Deathly Hallows. He stood up and began pacing. Now there were two Dark Lords this world had to deal with. How on Earth did Grindelwald get out of prison? Did this wizard decide he wanted to challenge Voldemort? Whatever the strategy was, Harry's stomach lurched. Perhaps this would cause Voldemort to weaken.

"And I overheard Bella screaming that the Dark Lord is looking for something, and wouldn't tell her about it. She was really upset about that."

"What's he looking for?" _Not another Horcrux I hope. _Then Harry remembered the dream. Voldemort told Harry he had failed to find something.

The boy shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. From whispers I've heard, The Dark Lord might not be quite himself anymore. Some say he can act strange at times. I've never met him, so I wouldn't be able to tell you if it's true."

"Interesting," thought Harry, getting excited at such news. Harry wondered if he had made more than seven Horcruxes. If this was the case, it could explain the rumour. Creating too many would destroy the soul beyond recognition, even weaken the person. "Is he still strong?"

"Yes."

Petunia stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "I would like to enjoy my living room in peace. My favourite soap is about to start."

Ashley frowned. "She's so mean!"

Harry was a little jarred. He wanted to discuss things more, but he herded the children back up the stairs, taking a glimpse of a calendar that was pinned on the doorway. Tomorrow would be the 31st of July. His birthday. There was nothing to celebrate though.

"Come on, lets go to bed."

Harry was about to speak when someone rang the doorbell. He immediately told the children to hush up and to hide behind the couch. He pulled out his wand in case, as he heard his aunt open the front door cautiously. Harry wanted to tell her not to open the door, but it was too late.

"Hello? Hello… anyone there?" The door closed again with a snap. "Neighbourhood brats!" Petunia hissed, locking the door again.

Harry pocketed his wand, though his hand still fingered it as he entered the hallway. It was there. In the dark, Aunt Petunia screamed, arms flailing about when the other Harry Potter suddenly appeared in front of her.

Harry's heart fell into the pit of his stomach as the other Harry smirked at his terrified aunt, hood covering his eyes.

"Well, hello Aunt Petunia," the Death Eater said. "We've only meet once. I was only a small child then, all cute and innocent. Though, I do recall Uncle Vernon kicking us out of the house after I had accidentally made Dudley turn blue head to toe.

"Th-there's two of y-you?" Their aunt spluttered.

"Thanks for pointing that out, Aunty Tuny," the Death Eater mocked, turning his attention towards Harry who had his wand out and ready.

**Stay Tuned for the Next Chapter.**

**I hope you enjoyed Chap 11. :) Please review.**


	13. The Black Square

**Chapter 12**

**The Black Square**

* * *

**A/N  
**

**Hello everyone, it's been years since I've updated this fic. I have been busy with travel. Please be aware that I have updated this fic and a lot of things have been changed or added and POVs of characters changed. So if you remember this fic vaguely, I would suggest you'd read it from the beginning.**

**Thank you all for your patience and reviews. **

******Pretty please don't forget to review. I'd love to hear what you think, big or small.******

* * *

The Death Eater stepped forward calmly. Behind him Aunt Petunia cowered in fear, trembling hands over her mouth. His heavy black cloak brushed past her making her gasp in shock as though it had given her an electric shock.

Harry gripped his wand harder, determined not be swayed by his double. "I haven't caused you any trouble, so now you're hunting me now?" he gritted.

"You've caused me so much trouble in the short space of time you've been in this world. Far too much..."

"No I—"

But the Harry of this world pointed his bony fingers to the two scared children now hiding behind Harry's back. Harry caught a glimpse of Ashley's blue eyes which held so much fear. She shook her head, silently pleading for Harry to protect her.

"Explain, then." But Harry knew the reason why. He just needed to buy some time to react without getting everyone killed.

"I need to rectify the problem you've created."

Harry ignored his aunt's yelps of terror. "What have I created?"

The tall cloaked boy crossed his arms. "Those wenches belong to the Lestranges. Everyone seems to think I've stolen them and now everyone's wondering where I'm keeping them. Or if I've killed them or even worse, did I hand them over to the Light Side? So to quash these rumours, I'm here to take my stolen loot. Got a problem with that, Scarhead?"

Harry was horrified. "Yeah I do, as a matter of fact - _Stupefy_!"

The Death Eater Harry flicked the spell away like it was a bothersome insect. Suddenly the air seemed to thicken with echoes and a dancing black orb appeared between his hands.

Harry backed away, watching the black orb grow. He took a step back as the hair prickled on the back of his neck. This was Dark Magic at its most powerful.

With an enormous push, the Death Eater's black sphere plunged forward, turning into tendrils of smoke, and terrifying screams pitched from it, like it was alive and in agony.

Mortified by this dark new magic, Harry flicked his wand, and produced a large golden, shimmering shield to protect himself, Petunia and the children who were screaming behind him. The spell that the Death Eater hurled was so powerful it had caused the shield to vibrate violently and the photo frames that lined the Dursleys shelves shattered and so did the windows. Harry put in a lot of energy to keep the shield intact. Just a little longer, Harry thought, as he held the wand with both hands hoping the shield would not break.

The Death Eater's maniacal laughing stopped as he stared at the shield, his wide eyes telling Harry that his other self had not expected such a quick and powerful spell.

"That wasn't meant to happen…_again_." He raised an eyebrow. He seemed genuinely surprised. He backed away, as the black screaming smoke disappeared.

Finally his hood fell off his face. Harry's evil dimensional twin looked a lot healthier than the last time they had met. His hair was still long, though clean. He was still pale, but at least he was not gaunt anymore. Underneath his cloak he wore black robes with snakes in silver embroidery, instead of the Azkaban issued clothes. And his wrists were bandaged... and his eyes, full of danger, filled with the need to display magic… to prove himself.

Harry remained still, wand pointed ahead at the figure. He would not dare take his eyes off the Death Eater. Ashley and Tony were now both clinging onto Petunia, backing into the living room, watching the battle between the two Harry's unfold.

"A little too arrogant, maybe?" Harry spat, suddenly remembering words Snape would say.

The Death Eater snorted, licking his top teeth. "I'm not arrogant."

Now it was Harry's time to ridicule, though at the same time he was a little put off by the feeling that his other self was like Voldemort. "That's a big statement coming from a pathetic Death Eater like you."

The Death Eater grimaced. "Pathetic, really? I'm not the one leeching off other people's powers. I daresay you've probably acted like a parasite in your own world. Hmm? Hiding behind more powerful individuals, while they die trying to protect you. You're nothing but a weak fool."

Harry shook his head. Was this boy staring into his mind? "That's not true."

"Look who's pathetic now?" The evil boy laughed.

Harry controlled his breathing as a flush of fury crept up his neck. "You weren't laughing the last time I saw you. You were screaming."

The Death Eater's laughter died in his throat. "What are you talking about?"

"Voldemort cursing you," Harry said, retreating slowly toward the couch.

"How do you know? _What_ do you know?"

"I saw it while I was dreaming. I saw you staring into Voldemort's red eyes. How is he by the way? He looked a bit grey, didn't he?" From what Harry saw in his dream, to the rumour that Tony told him, the theory that Voldemort was not totally himself hit Harry with a flutter of excitement.

The Death Eater did not speak for a moment, when he did, he did not betray any secrets in his softly spoken voice. "The Dark Lord is more powerful than he's ever been.

"This connection, between us, is growing too strong too rapidly."

"You think?" In fact Harry wasn't enjoying the connection. It unsettled him more than his connection with Voldemort.

Harry heard whimpering as Ashley began to cry, but what really enveloped his senses were the power that was in the room, that invisible sizzle crackle in the air making their hair stand on end and goose bumps erupt all over.

Harry Disapparated into the living room just before a fiery blue whip flew out of the Death Eater's hand. This was war between him and his evil double now. Harry slashed his wand as he rolled over the couch. The spell caught the blue spell and an explosion of light occurred in the room. Petunia and the children screamed. As more ornaments exploded and bits of ceiling and wall crumbled over their heads, Harry covered his head and heard the other Harry laugh. He seemed to be enjoying himself a lot.

"You're very entertaining Harry – brother - or whatever I should call you," the Death Eater spat from within the mist of dust and debris.

"Is that why you came here? Just to play a game?" Harry could not see his other self in the circulating dust. His ears strained for sounds.

"No, I really came for the brats and to kill you."

"WE'RE NOT HERS!" Tony yelled.

"DON'T KILL HIM!" Ashley screamed.

"HELP, HELP, SOMEONE!" Petunia cried.

"SHUT UP!" the Death Eater yelled in return. "My troublesome double here took you, and so, in return for this favour I shall take you with me. You'll be mine for the keeping. As soon as you're with me you'll be under my control, to do whatever I command."

"No, no, no," whimpered the girl.

"_Get out of my house!"_ screamed Petunia. "SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!"

"Aunt Petunia, I've placed a silencing spell around your house. No one will hear you."

"We want to stay with the Good Harry," Tony spat.

As the dust settled, Harry saw the look of shock on Death Eater Harry's face. "_Good_?" It was like he had never heard of that word for such a long time, and it hid so much meaning that it caused turmoil. "Good Harry, you say boy?"

For a second that felt like forever, both sets of green eyes focused on each other. There seemed to be something that passed between them. Harry felt distantly an indescribable pain that twisted his heart. It had felt like a Dementor had passed straight through him. And then it was over just as quickly as it had begun.

Death Eater Harry looked away, staring at the ceiling instead for a second, his eyes glittering. "You've meddled in my world and in my affairs too_ fucking_ much, too soon, stranger." His voice was harsh, yet intimate. They were words only meant for Harry.

Harry's hands were clammy; he was not going to die now, not this way and not in this dimension when he had so much to do in his own world. "I wasn't dreaming of getting involved but I found two scared tortured kids, and I wasn't going to leave to be dealt by scum like you."

"I told you what would happen if you got in my way, didn't I?" The Death Eater hissed. His tone was dangerous.

"Yeah, I still remember, but it didn't scare me then and you're not scaring me now." Harry yelled. "You want me out of your way? COME ON THEN! DO IT! I'm sick of this world!"

A sneer took shape on the Death Eater's face. "Oh no… you did expect me to kill you, didn't you? Yes, yes, I did say something like that, didn't I?" He shook his head. "There's been a slight change of plans - _Exuro Somes!"_

A jet of orange fire that was shaped like a running man bolted toward Harry. Eyes wide, he flicked his wand and the flaming man was quickly absorbed into his phoenix and yew wand. "_Reducto_," Harry lashed back.

The cabinet behind the Death Eater shattered, raining a hundreds of splinters. The boy yelled in pain, disappearing to the other end of the room, near the scared children and Petunia. Their protective shield was evaporating in front of Harry's eyes.

The Death Eater held an out stretched hand towards his mouth and blew into it like an invisible kiss he wished to send. A blast of freezing air shot towards Harry, turning white like avalanching snow, its head turning into a snake, fangs bared and all.

"_Incendio,_" Harry roared. The beast screeched and disappeared as fire enveloped it, and seeing the Death Eater again: "_Stupefy_!"

The Death Eater swung his arms out and Harry's spell was suddenly knocked back into his direction. Harry ducked just in time before it blew a hole in the wall where his head was.

"Stupefy? Oh, come on, Harry! You really need some good spells. That's shock—"

"_Sectumsempra!" _

The Death Eater screamed; blood spattered the walls, just before he disappeared out of sight. Harry's spell had hit the Death Eater, but there was no time for celebration or regret, because before Harry could turn around, he saw a swirl of black in the corner of his eye. Suddenly Harry was thrown backwards by a blast which knocked all breath out of him.

"NO!" Tony, Ashley and Aunt Petunia screamed in unison.

"Run," Harry said to Petunia and the children through clenched teeth.

He felt pain on his right side and concluded that some ribs had been broken. Harry swayed on all fours. His vision doubled, and there was a ringing in his ear. Harry looked up and saw shiny dragon hide boots covered in rivers of blood stop in front of him. Harry thought of Petunia's clean carpet soon turning into a crimson mess.

The Death Eater crouched down close to Harry. He started to dust off debris from Harry's cloak. There was no emotion on his face at all.

Harry heard whimpering and realised that the children and his aunt were all bound and gagged ropes snaking tighter as they struggled in their bonds.

"Don't-"

"I won't kill the children; they're coming with me," he laughed. Blood from the Death Eater's hand slowly dripped. "How did you know Snape's spell."

"Piss off!" Harry gritted.

"Very well," the Death Eater replied grimly, standing up. "If I were you, I would get used to being on all fours." He picked up Harry's wand and pocketed it, and for good measure took Harry's glasses away. "You won't need these soon."

Suddenly Aunt Petunia screamed. Oh god, Harry thought, as he watched her crumble onto the floor. The Death Eater killed her. "WHY?" Harry Screamed.

The Death Eater smirked. "Just because I can. Oh, by the way, happy birthday."

Harry didn't care that it was their eighteenth birthday as he tried to keep himself from losing consciousness, watching Tony and Ashley levitating, struggling even more. Their shouts were muffled, their tears splattering the floor like rain drops. Then the Death Eater and his bounty vanished with a pop.

With his vision blurred, he now heard a series of pops and cracks and a different set of shouts.

"We've found him, sir! That anonymous tip turned out to be true this time."

"Good job, Tonks," a hoarse voice said. "Make sure the Muggle police are notified that Harry Potter has been caught."

Harry groaned. The Aurors had found him.

"Is the Muggle alive?"

"I'll check…"

Harry tried to stand, to escape. But he didn't have a chance to fight back, because the very next second someone's boot smashed against his head, blacking him out.

* * *

The Grandfather clock in Severus's living room chimed several times. Bellatrix Lestrange's narrowed eyes and heavy breathing did not move Severus with any empathy. The witch held her wand tightly while Narcissa tried to calm her.

He walked around the couch, fingers twitching towards his own wand. The situation was proving more dangerous than he thought it was going to be, especially since Potter hadn't shown up with Bella's children.

"Bella let it go!" Narcissa purred. She looked quite fetching in purple silk and black lace robes.

"I will wait here until Potter turns up and hands them over."

Severus lifted the curtain to look out into misty Spinners End, hoping to see the boy with the children. He saw nothing but swirling white cloud. The boy was proving to be more trouble than he had ever imagined.

Bella sat on the tip of the couch, her head hung low, spilling her long black hair. "His time was up hours ago. He had his chance and now he will suffer."

Severus's focus snapped to Bella. "Leave his family out of it! Do you really want to anger our master even more than needs be? It is Potter's mission to rid his family, not yours. The Dark Lord despises others meddling in one's business."

Bellatrix was outraged. "It didn't stop the boy from meddling in my own. He should've handed them over when he found them."

"And the boy was punished for it."

"Obviously it was not enough to get some sense into him."

_Lily, stay safe._ _I must warn her, _he thought as he paced behind the couch. He could quite easily curse that whiney head of Bellatrix Lestrange from his view. It would so easy. He'd deal with Narcissa as an afterthought.

Bella snorted. "Your love for the Mudblood bitch is hilarious. I haven't stopped laughing since Hogwarts."

Severus bowed low from behind the couch, close enough for his lips to brush against Bellatrix's hair, his breath on her ear. "And what exactly do you have planned for the Potters, may I ask?"

Bella chuckled. "A plan I've had since the beginning." She slowly pulled her head back. The nape of her neck was exposed.

It would be so easily for Severus to cut her jugular. Perhaps she was testing Severus, tempting him to attack.

Her grey eyes found his, twinkling with malice. "You can join me if you wish. You can fuck her before I kill her."

His fingers almost cracked his wand. He staggered back, placing his trembling hands behind his back. His heart was drumming in panic. But he mustn't reveal his emotions.

Narcissa followed his every move from her dark corner. Whenever her husband Lucius and her son Draco were on a mission, Narcissa would follow her sister like a lost puppy. Severus doubted that it was purely for protection, but more for the thrill. It was a dull and boring place in a large house, like Malfoy Manor.

"It can wait until the time is right," Narcissa interjected. "The boy is not going to show up as we can see. Let's go, Bella, and think more about your next course of action. Some rest too will help. You haven't slept for days. You'll think better."

"If you weren't my favourite sister, I would've killed you by now."

"Just like Andromeda and her Mudblood husband? Severus hissed. "You have no boundaries."

"I have boundaries when it comes to blood and loyalty you stupid fool. It's something which you fail to have an ounce of."

Severus had had enough of them. "It's time for you to leave..."

"You're right. I can't stand this filthy place any longer." Bella stood, smoothing her simple black velvet gown, and covering her head with her hooded cloak.

Finally, thought Severus, opening the front door for them. Narcissa disappeared first into the mist, with a reproachful look. Bella hung back just long enough to whisper him words of warning.

"You've deserted me. You will pay for this dearly…"

"Goodbye Bellatrix." Severus slammed the door shut in her face.

Potter and the children did not return that evening. Instead Severus's Dark Mark burned fiercely.

He had been summoned.

* * *

Icy cold water hit his body like a wave. Harry Potter woke with a start, gasping for breath as the cold penetrated his very bones. He shook violently and in horror, he realised what had happened and how he had gotten in such a dire situation.

Now, he sat in a skeletal iron frame of a chair without backing or a seat. His hands and feet were manacled to the armrest and chair legs and a chain linked his wrists together. His neck was held back by a chain, which jingled when tried to move. He was held in place, stripped naked and exposed to the elements.

"_Hem, hem…" _

Another cauldron of cold water splashed him. Harry yelled out in shock.

"Welcome back home, Mr Potter." It was that sweet sickening voice Harry knew too well. Even without his glasses, he could still make out who she was.

"_You!"_ he spat at Dolores Umbridge as she circled him in his chair.

The Umbridge of this world still had that stupid pink bow on her hair. Her fuchsia high heels failed to give her height as they clicked on the stone floor.

Where was he?

"Azkaban missed you dearly," Umbridge simpered. That answered his question. "You've been unconscious for a few hours." Behind her, Harry could make out a white clock. He squinted. It was the early hours of the morning.

He looked past her, surveying his new surroundings. His breathes came out heavy, and white fog came out of his mouth in puffs. It was desperately cold. He wondered whether some Dementors had stayed behind.

Though the walls were a cruel stone grey, Umbridge still had the time to decorate it with her floral plates, covered with kittens. She had Azkaban her own little pen for amusement and gratification.

Besides Umbridge and himself, Harry saw several Aurors. Blurry as they were, they still stood menacing. One of them made Harry jump. He squinted; he recognised that the dark Auror was Kingsley Shacklebolt, bald with a glint of a gold earring in one ear. Harry eyed him, silently imploring him for help. But who was he kidding? Shacklebolt wasn't his friend in this world.

"You have been a very busy boy."

Harry's attention quickly returned onto his biggest threat: Umbridge. He shivered horribly from the cold. He wanted to cover his starkness and protect himself.

"Wh-Wh-what's going to happen?" he asked. He wished he did not sound scared and small. The cold did not help.

At that very moment, he wished he was facing Voldemort instead.

"We have some questions, which I hope you would kindly answer." She giggled as she twirled her stubby wand in her hands.

"I-i-if I don't?" he shivered. He wanted to know what was coming.

Umbridge smiled. It was that ruthless sadistic smile she played when she had made Harry write lines with his blood. He still had the scars on his hand. He clenched his fist.

"Don't play games Mr Potter, you know very well what will happen if you don't, as you've been taught several times before."

Harry doubted that she didn't want to play games.

"W-why not use Veritiserum and g-get all the information you want?"

Umbridge giggled, her wand lifting Harry's fringe to reveal his scar. He thrashed back against her touch. But there was nowhere he could hide.

"That would be too easy, I'm afraid. Besides the true Death Eaters have protection against the potion. Your side has come up with ingenious ways to protect themselves from us."

Harry slumped back, confusion and panic gripping him. His heart pounded, his breathes quickened. Why? He thought what have I done to deserve all this? All he wanted to do is get back home, and sort out Voldemort and the Horcruxes and just win the bloody war.

Harry heard Kingsley's deep voice distantly in his ears. He took several deep breathes. He needed to focus and stay alert. This wasn't the best time to have a panic attack of sorts.

"Ms Undersecretary…"

Umbridge thought for a moment. "_Ahem_, what is it?"

"At present we have all the information that we want surrounding the boy. There is nothing more we will get from him. From our interrogations before his escape, you know he does not reveal anything."

She laughed. Harry knew she just wanted to hear him scream. "What exactly do we know?"

Kingsley stepped forward. "He's done nothing but hide out in caves, and he wanted to finish his Muggle relatives off first, before moving onto his immediate family." Kingsley then added, "He had failed to do it properly."

Harry's heart fluttered. Was Aunt Petunia still alive? "She's not dead?"

"She is still alive but unresponsive, in a deep unconscious state. She sleeps with her eyes wide open. Whatever you cursed her with, Potter, it didn't work. And hopefully she will eventually reawaken."

His evil double seemed to failing a lot of tasks lately, Harry noticed. There's hope for his aunt, though, feeling relieved. He wanted her to wake as soon as possible so she would be able to help him and tell everyone what had happened; that there were two Harrys, and they had caught the wrong one.

"There was evidence of other people within the house," Umbridge stated brusquely. "He wasn't acting alone."

"I work alone!" Harry spat, trying to protect the children.

Suddenly there was a deep crushing pain to his left cheek. The force of it whipped his head to the side. Kingsley had backhanded him quite viciously.

"DO NOT SPEAK UNLESS YOU'RE ASKED TOO!" Kingsley shouted.

His ear was ringing again, and he could feel his cheek beginning to swell under the numbness.

"_Ahem, hem_" Umbridge smiled. "What I do want to know is how you managed to escape Azkaban." You may speak now, Potter."

"I—" Harry didn't know how he was going to get out of this one. "Please listen to me, I'm not the Harry Potter you're looking for, you have to-"

It was then Harry understood why the chair had no backing. He writhed in his seat in excruciating pain as a Cruciatus Curse hit the small of his back. He slumped back in agony when the curse lifted. A cold sweat ran down his neck.

Umbridge laughed. "Not the Harry Potter we're looking for?" she mocked. "He has gone mad!"

"—Ms Undersecretary, we've gathered information from the other escapees that we've caught, that this was outside work. Allegedly it was Voldemort. These prisoners did not plan to—"

"Enough!" Umbridge yelled. Even in her fury she blushed pink. "Shacklebolt, you are really being quite disruptive this evening. If it had been You-Know-Who, he would've let out the entire prison."

"I believe Voldemort would not do this. It was only The Black Square that contained Potter. It was only Potter's side that had been damaged. The others were just lucky enough to get out as well."

Harry heard Umbridge sigh turning to open the heavy iron door. "Hand him over to the Atoners. He will need to be punished for the escape as a lesson to the others."

The chair that he had been chained to vanished with a crack. Harry fell to the floor in a crumble. He did not have time to attempt to stand when rough hands pulled him up by the arms and dragged him out of the room. Umbridge strode along in front, leading the way.

The corridor was dark and foreboding and bone chillingly cold. Harry shivered, between the two Aurors as he was dragged, the rough stone floor skinning his feet.

The corridor was lined with hundreds of cells, the rusted iron bars caging their prisoners. All the cells Harry had observed were filled with more than one prisoner. Some lay in their dark corners on sagging cots. Others watched Harry and some had extended their arms through the bars and began pleading with Umbridge for mercy, pleading their innocence. Umbridge ignored them. A couple of the Aurors cursed the prisoners back to their cell corners.

It was a long corridor that seemed to never end. As he was pulled through, his vision seemed to become a little clearer and sharper. First his powers were getting stronger through his connection with this twin, and now his sight and seeing his twin through visions. This was unsettling Harry.

At the end of the passage, however, there was another thick iron door, either side of it flanked by two Aurors. Harry looked up and saw a sign which read, _The Black Square_. Umbridge flicked her wand, and the locks came undone. There were heavy enchantments outside the door. The wards were strong and powerful. Harry could feel it.

Within the door, the room was huge, though just as grey and dark. Light blazed in their sconces, but their heat did not make Harry feel any better or give the room any warmth. Nothing but a small wooden desk and chair stood in the middle of the room.

The floor before the desk was covered in old blood. On the floor was several iron loops drilled within the stone, only metres apart. Behind that, there was a small trapdoor made of iron bars. The smell that rose from it was more than Harry could bear. The entire room smelt of blood, sick and other bodily fluids. Each side of the square contained thirteen cells, all bolted shut with a heavy door. There was a small window in each of them. Almost every one of them had a pair of eyes peeking through.

Umbridge sat down behind the little wooden desk; she held a lace handkerchief to her nose as she sprayed her little corner with floral perfume. She smoothed out the parchment and dipped her quill writing something down, before waving her hand at the Aurors as a signal.

Harry was pushed down to his knees; the short chain that linked his wrists was pulled toward the iron loop. It was charmed through it.

Harry could not stand, but knelt in front of Umbridge. He could not fight, nor protect himself. He was totally vulnerable and exposed. Harry wanted to shield his nakedness from all the eyes. He raised his chin, determined not to betray his emotions as he looked Umbridge in the eye. He could see her simpering smile clearly, as though he were wearing glasses.

Umbridge waved her wand, and Harry saw a bright blue light around the room, it was a barrier surrounding the walls, and it slowly fell, like a silk curtain.

"Can you all hear me?" she shrilled loudly, staring at all the closed cell doors.

"Let us go!" One prisoner shouted. "I'm innocent, I have a small child—"

"SHUT UP BRENNAN! We all know you killed that Auror," another prisoner shouted from across the square.

"Please, please, I was only stating the truth about the Minister." An elderly prisoner pleaded.

"I'm sorry; I'll do whatever you say…" one cried. "Please get me out of here."

The protests grew louder as more voices were heard.

"QUIET!" Umbridge screamed. "OR YOU WILL SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES!"

At once there was silence.

"You are all in this square because you are all the most dangerous enemies of the Ministry and our community. Your pleas are useless. Your crimes and your teachings are pure evil. You will never leave your cell. Death will be your only freedom."

"If you wish to end your confinement, please ask to speak with me, and I will end it quickly and quietly."

Harry heard whimpering from one of the cells echoing around the Black Square. No one deserved this treatment, Harry thought as he shivered.

"Ahem." Umbridge readjusted her pink bow. "Harry Potter, as leader of the escape, you are hereby charged with prison escape, destruction of Ministry property and the maiming of a Muggle with the intent of murder. Your punishment will be the trapdoor until I see fit to release you. You will be flogged, and subjected to the whims of the Atoners. Repent for your crimes, Mr Potter, you have all the time in the world. Let this serve as a reminder to all of you, of the consequences."

The Aurors backed against either side of the cells, and Harry saw that a passageway had suddenly opened up behind the desk. A new group of men and women were appearing. From what Harry had heard, these were the Atoners. These wizards were nothing more than pardoned or rehabilitated petty and dangerous criminals working for Azkaban. One by one they circled Harry and Umbridge, wearing navy robes with a red enamelled 'A' pinned to their chest. They gleamed like blood in the firelight.

Harry's breathe caught in his throat. Instinctively he tested the chain, trying to break free. He wished the bloody flagstone would give way and release the hook. But nothing happened, not even a crack appeared.

"Atoners, welcome, welcome." Umbridge spoke. "Our escapee has returned. Willis where are you?"

"Aye, Ms Umbridge!" A loud voice pronounced. A tall, brutish Atoner with a blonde bushy beard stepped forward from the circle. His hands hooked onto his wide leather belt, to which various daggers and instruments were attached rather proudly. Harry thought he might have been the leader. His dark eyes were cold, and his grin shined with gold teeth.

She smiled. "You may take over. It is time for his penance. You must give him new scars, Willis, there are far few to be seen. It seems to me that you have been too soft on these prisoners." Umbridge waved her hand around the cells.

Willis seemed a little confused as he glared at Harry's skin, like he did not believe what he saw. "Ms Umbridge, I assure you, we've taken your word to the letter. I think he's been well healed since his escape. I will get the information out of the boy."

"The interrogation can wait. For now, he needs to be punished for his new crimes."

"Aye." Willis puffed his chest up. "Brodes, it's your turn."

"Excellent." A portly bald man with a booming voice stepped out of the circle. He curtly nodded at Umbridge. He had a brown goatee knotted with a red band. There was a ghastly large scar that ran from his left eye to his chin. Brodes took out his wand and with a swish, a red lash cracked onto the floor, like a whip. It cast the Black Square with an eerie red glow. It was as though the depths of hell had opened up and Harry was right in its mouth.

"We've missed you, Potter." Brodes strolled forward, close enough to yank Harry's head back by a fistful of hair. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, smelling his putrid breath. "Did you miss our little midnight calls to your cell?"

_No!_ Harry almost died inside. All that he remembered before the red whip cracked was the look of pure joy in Umbridge's face.

* * *

Severus bowed in front of his master. "My lord, you wanted to see me?"

The Dark Lord sat on the high backed chair that had normally sat the Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts in the Great Hall. He tapped his long white fingers on a goblet.

Hogwarts had changed. Gone were the candles that littered the ceiling of the Great hall, gone were the four tables, the warmth and anticipation of the students for the year ahead. Hogwarts as a great learning place was dead. It was dark and dreary, and full of evil and despair.

The Dark Lord looked up, sniffing the air around him. His faithful followers lined the wall behind his throne, they were private guard. Severus felt as though he was being questioned, possibly killed. He felt suddenly clammy, his heart racing. What was going on?

"Come. Walk with me, Severus." The Dark Lord stood, goblet in hand. Severus followed him slightly behind.

"Once the war is over I will open up the school," The Dark Lord smiled. "This has always been my home."

"Yes, my lord. And with your blessing, I would like to continue teaching."

"It will be a pleasure watching you grow young minds in the Dark Arts."

Severus bowed. However, he had a niggling suspicion that his master didn't summon him to discuss the Hogwarts curriculum.

They moved out of the hall and into a disused classroom. The room reeked with mould, and spider webs glowed in the moonlight, streaming through broken arched windows.

"For the last few months I have been monitoring Grindelwald's advances on my territory."

Severus raised his eyebrows.

"He has been plucking my followers to swell his own. The wizard has always been a thief from his early days. I have hunted and punished those consorting with him, yet he rebounds, never learning from my lessons." The Dark Lord's long finger slowly swept the dust off a desk.

"Those Death Eaters who oppose him are killed. With the Deathly Hallows mark placed upon their cheek." Severus stated.

"Yet he continues to defy me. I will crush the wizard." He took a drink from the goblet.

Could his master know that Grindelwald had shown up at Spinners End excited to see Harry Potter, like a rare exhibit in a museum? Severus took a deep breath, willing the barrier shielding his mind to strengthen from any attack.

"Have you been speaking with this impostor?"

"No, my lord." Severus hoped his answer was not too quick to confirm suspicions.

"Bellatrix has evidence that you had."

"Show me this evidence." Ah, thought Severus, Bellatrix wanted to destroy him now.

The Dark Lord's hand disappeared within his robe. He produced a calling card and threw it at Severus's feet.

He picked it up, staring at it. It was gold and in the middle was a swirling ornate 'G.' G for Grindelwald, he guessed.

"Grindelwald leaves this card wherever he visits. Bellatrix found this in your living room."

That's impossible, thought Severus. He swept the house clean of any trace of the wizard as soon as he had left. Severus would've found such a card straight away. Dumbledore would've told the wizard to be careful.

"My lord, Bella is upset about Potter stealing her apprentices. I fear this is petty revenge on her part. I did after all, take Potter under my protection."

"I fear it too. However, your past is against you, Severus. A leopard does not change its spots."

Severus was about to declare is loyalty when a Death eater banged the classroom door open, rushing in.

"My lord!" a cloaked and masked Death Eater gasped. He bowed at The Dark Lord's feet and began whispering words.

"The boy has been caught and is once again in Azkaban." The Dark Lord spoke for Severus to hear.

"The Children?" Severus asked.

"No word of them. They've disappeared from sight," the Death Eater replied louder.

The Dark Lord was furious. He flung the goblet at the Death Eater, knocking him to the ground, and soaking his robes in a liquid that looked like molten silver. Severus recognised it straight away as unicorn blood.

How long has he been drinking blood so pure and innocent from a unicorn? Severus asked himself.

"Get out of my sight," he hissed

The Death Eater ran for his life.

Severus thought it wise not to speak. This was a devastating blow. How could Potter be so stupid as to get caught twice?

"Fool!" The Dark lord spat.

Bravely Severus asked, "Perhaps you can break him out of Azkaban. Had it been you that helped the first time?"

"I never broke him out the first time," his master answered curtly. "It was Grindelwald who did." He paced the classroom. "Severus, the boy is too much of an asset to fall into Grindelwald's hands."

"I will prove my loyalty by helping him escape," Severus said. Not that he really wanted to. He liked the boy being far away from him.

The Dark Lord chuckled. "No… I want him kept there for the time being."

Severus was surprised.

"It is better for his power to be suppressed."

Even though Potter had been high up in command, Severus always wondered if his master feared the boy. The prophecy which Severus had heard that fateful day in Hogsmeade still lingered in his mind.

The Dark Lord twitched his long fingers, his wand in hand. "You will prove your loyalty by bringing me Jessica Potter."

"My lord?"

"Keep the mother, kill the rest, I do not care for them. They have been a hindrance from the start."

The words rung in Severus's ears and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. "It is as you wish, my lord. It… It will be an honour." He bowed stiffly. "May I ask why you want the girl, is she to be conditioned?"

The Dark Lord's eyes glittered. "The boy has failed me, perhaps his sister wont."

Severus pursed his lips tight. He did not move for awhile. It was the first time in a long time that he did not what to do.

**Please review. Love you lots if you do.  
**


	14. Order at Work

**Thank you everyone for reading my fic. I am slow at updating, but I do update, lol. **

**Please review this chapter, It will all help to motivate me for the next chapter. :P  
**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

**Order at Work**

Christopher and Michael had been eavesdropping on the heated argument between the Order members from the safety of the staircase landing. This was until Remus had herded them into Jessica's bedroom and told them to focus on their Charms homework instead. But Michael wasn't concerned about mastering a charm to make a teapot pour itself; he was more interested in what was going to happen with his Aunt Petunia.

Their ears were pressed against their sister's bedroom door, straining for every word. Both brothers stood listening to the argument and the occasional breaking of glass from within kitchen and hallway.

"Shit, mum's really having kittens tonight."

"Shh, shut it, Chris!"

Michael heard Remus interjecting and a slur of eloquent curse words flying from his mother's mouth. He never knew such words existed in his mother's vocabulary.

"Why is she so angry?" Jessica yelped, rocking back and forth on her bed. "She's scaring me. Is mummy OK?"

"She's fine, Newt." Christopher replied, trying to listen. He had one eye crunched shut, while his tongue hung out of his mouth in concentration. Michael had to fight the urge not to laugh. His brother looked stupid.

Michael glanced at his sister's little body swaying back and forth. Jessica had always hated her nickname, _Newt_. They rarely used it now because it always reminded them of life before Charlie's murder, a life they could never get back. But sometimes when they forgot about the past and 'Newt' passed their lips, Jessica never took any notice.

Sometimes, Jessica would forget things. They had told her about the attack as soon the news came through, yet now, she had clearly forgotten what Harry had done.

"Jess, our wonderful aunt is in hospital because Harry attacked her two days ago. She's in a bad shape and they don't know if she'll ever wake up," Michael answered slowly, making sure she understood; that the words penetrated her damaged mind.

Her lip trembled. Tears were sparkling in his foggy blind eyes. Her black hair plastered onto her face from perspiration. "My poor aunty!"

Michael and his brother raised their eyebrows. While Petunia was their aunt, they had only seen her once. They mostly knew of the Dursleys through their parent's stories. So they weren't the nicest Muggles.

"Jess, you've never met her, and she's not nice. So don't cry over it."

"Why would Harry do that?" she sniffled.

"Because he's evil, that's why."

She crossed her legs on her bed, hands covering her eyes. "He's in Azkaban now, isn't he?"

"Yep! And now, hopefully they'll keep him there for good this time," Michael spat.

Jessica began to sob into her tiny hands. "If only he'd given it… none of this would ever have happened." She stifled her cries, rocking back and forth.

Michael and Christopher exchanged a mutual expression of worry.

"What are you talking about? What would Harry give and to whom?" Michael asked, wrapping his arms around his little sister, pulling her close.

Her warm tears stained his t-shirt. Her eyes were open, like wet little crystal balls. He could see his own reflection in those white orbs. He wondered if he looked long enough if he could see his family's future in them.

Jessica sniffled, wiped her runny nose with the sleeve of her dress and rested her head on her brother's chest. She ever responded to his question.

"Sometimes I feel as though the Jessica I knew is trapped inside you," Michael whispered. Her enigmatic words were nothing new, just clearly always frustrating.

"I wish… I wish everyone was happy. I want Charlie alive, everyone good again, and the black which smells of death gone forever."

Confused, Michael let her doze off, while he held on to her. She was as limp as a rag doll.

* * *

Lily was so angry that she couldn't keep still. She paced up and down the house, pulling on a cardigan, then taking it off when she realised it was hot. Finally unable to take any more of the fighting and the waiting, she stomped to the front door. "I want to see my sister, James. I want her out of there! Why won't you all just listen to me?"

"You're out of your mind, Lily!" James yelled, grabbing her arm, fingers like a vice around her wrist.

She fumed. "Get your hand off me!"

She did not know what was happening to her sister. All she had heard were rumours from St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, where her Muggle sister lay alone and friendless in a foreign world. Petunia was vulnerable in Lily's world, a world which she had hated. It was a jealously which had taken swing when Lily had received her Hogwarts letter.

"If she wakes up, she'll be scared and lost…"

Her hand gripped the door knob of their house, but James gripped her arm even tighter. The fear in his eyes twinged Lily with guilt.

"You set foot into town, into St Mungo's, Voldemort will know. Think rationally!"

She knew he was right, but Lily didn't want to give him any satisfaction.

"James is right, Lily," Dumbledore spoke from a dark corner in the hall. There was a leather tome in his arms. His long fingers caressed the cover gently. "We will get her out of there as soon as it is safe. I shall speak to our members within the hospital for a suitable time. You are at great risk and you will put all of us in danger if you rush to her bedside."

"You told me this yesterday! When _will_ that suitable time be?"

"Lily, please?" Remus said with his hands outstretched. Lily turned away from his pleas and let go of the doorknob.

Her husband's grip slackened. She yanked her arm away from him, storming into the kitchen, everyone following at her heels. There she unlocked the highest cabinet in the kitchen with a flick of her wand so roughly that the lock shot across the room, bounced off the wall, leaving behind a dent. Little Dedalus Diggle had to duck to miss it hitting his head. She charmed down a bottle of Firewhiskey and downed a glass straightaway.

James stood with his arms crossed. He was red with anger. "You still think Harry is your innocent little boy, Lils—"

"SHUT UP, JAMES!" Lily screamed, hurling the glass at his head. He swung in time as it shattered behind him. "I don't need you patronising me!"

"QUIET!" Dumbledore sat down. It was fairly rare that the old wizard would raise his voice for order. This was one of those rare events and everyone obeyed. "Please sit, everyone. We have plenty of work to do."

Lily felt like a small schoolgirl again, being reprimanded by a teacher.

Dumbledore laid the book out in front of him. Then he put his hands together, resting them beneath his long nose. There was no twinkle in his eyes and there was an air of weariness and sadness that emanated from him. Lily thought there was something not right with the old headmaster. She saw the book and wondered why he had brought it out of their secured cabinet, but her mind was still focused on her sister for her to ask what the headmaster wanted of it.

Lily leaned back against the kitchen bench, surveying the quiet Order members across the room. Dedalus moped up the sweat from his brow. Emmeline Vance played with a lock of her jet black hair. Bill, Fred, George and Ron Weasley were whispering to each other near the pantry.

"Everyone in this family is at risk twenty-four bloody hours of the day! I refuse to sit back and hide behind a wet blanket while our world collapses around us. I'm going to see my sister and I'll bring her back here. She needs people she knows surrounding her—"

James snorted. "You mean freaks she knows and hates."

She ignored her husband and was determined to make them come to their senses. Lily had been in shock for hours when she had heard about the attack. Even though they had their differences, Petunia Dursley was still her family. And Lily still loved her. Will always love her, no matter how much Petunia despised her world.

Now her only sister, her only link to the Muggle world lay in a bed, almost dead. All Lily could think, as a rise of anger swelled in her was how stupid she had been thinking that her eldest child was still her sweet little boy. How delusional had she been? Lily wanted to beat herself for ever thinking it. Harry had always had a mission and that was to finish his family off, both magical and Muggle. His failure to kill Jessica and even Dudley Dursley had been a terrible blunder.

All they knew from the attack on Petunia was that Harry had slept in the house for a long while. And that it had appeared he did not stay alone. The rumours that Harry had stolen Bellatrix's prisoners seemed true. Mad-Eye also believed that Petunia may have been Imperioused to allow Harry to stay within her own home. Then, she had found out that the Auror department had been made aware of his whereabouts by an anonymous tip. Lily wondered who this person was.

"We will see Petunia. Give it another couple of days. Aurors and Death Eaters alike are expecting you to see her," Remus said. He was haggard and tired and his voice was hoarse. Lily realised the full moon would be upon them soon and Remus would lock himself away for a few days as the wolf within him tore at his soul.

She crossed her arms, huffing. Lily didn't take notice of the Order speaking in hushed tones as they figured out a plan to rescue Petunia. Even though St Mungo's was a brilliant magical hospital, mysterious deaths and disappearances from within the safety of its walls occurred frequently. These were perpetrated by Death Eaters and the Ministry. People opted to be treated for their injuries in their own homes, without the added risk.

It was then she noticed that there were a few members missing from the meeting. For one, Sirius, Charlie Weasley and Hagrid were tracking down Death Eaters who were killing unicorns. For a few years, unicorns would be killed once a year after the spring, and their blood drained. Unicorn blood fetched the most ridiculous prices in the black market since the war began. They suspected that Voldemort would use the funds to feed, house and reward his followers.

Arthur was at the Ministry trying to gather information on infiltrated Death Eaters spying in the departments. Meanwhile, Arthur's son Percy, working for Umbridge, was spying on her and the Minister. They knew that Umbridge was manipulating the Minister for her own agenda, passing insane laws to their world's detriment.

Only a few days ago Percy had sent them an urgent message detailing plans for a law to make anyone associated with Order of the Phoenix punishable by law. They were trying to rush these laws through, so they could catch any member trying to see Petunia.

Finally sitting down at the table, Lily looked around once more: Mad-Eye Moody, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick and many others were trying to track down the movements of Grindelwald. Some of the Auror members were protecting Muggle towns which Death Eaters would likely attack soon, while others protected vulnerable Muggle-borns and their families from slaughter and abduction. Lastly, Kingsley Shacklebolt would be overseeing the imprisonment of her son.

With all these missions, she was surprised no one had died yet.

She ignored the buzzing conversations, their voices getting louder and more animated and they pointed to a map, agreeing and disagreeing. Her gaze landed on that book Dumbledore held onto again.

"-We'll use the Impenetrable Mist the Weasley twins have invented. This will be a great opportunity to escape with, if we are seen."

"Our finest moment," Fred and George said together.

James shook his head pointing to the map. "That's all good, but I still have to disagree with the route, Remus. That St Mungo's secret passage is just too dangerous, let's use the one that goes beneath this Muggle st—"

"Why do you have that book, Albus?" Lily spoke over James. The Red-haired Weasleys perked up once more. They didn't expect she'd be questioning him, on something other than rescuing Petunia.

Dumbledore opened his eyes. He had clearly been focused on other things as well; Lily doubted that he was even thinking about any plan involving her sister.

"I'd like to read it." Dumbledore adjusted his half moon spectacles over his nose, held the book up and read. "_Oe Fo Irbil."_

She wasn't in the mood for evasive conversations. "Yes, but what of it?"

"It is one I have never come across, and I'm very interested in reading it over a nice cup of tea and gingersnaps." He smiled, resting the book on his lap and away from prying eyes.

"Gone off the Sherbet Lemons, have you, Sir?" Fred asked with a cheeky grin. The boys all sniggered.

Dumbledore's moustache quivered in amusement. For a moment Lily saw that trademark twinkle in his eye. "Last Christmas had been a horrible experience for me! It was a nightmare trying to find robes that suited my lovely lemon-coloured skin and beard, thanks to your Sherbet Lemons, boys."

Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks once more, she asked, "Have you found anything interesting to do with the wand Harry had with him?"

"Holly and Phoenix?" Albus Dumbledore hesitated ever so slightly. "The Brother Wand."

"The what?" James asked.

"The Phoenix feather in the wand found in Harry's possession belonged to my own bird, Fawkes. It is the same core that is in within Voldemort's own wand, although his is made of Yew. I find this intriguing…"

"So Fawkes produced two feath—"

"No," Dumbledore interrupted. "It is quite impossible! I was with Ollivander that day when he had asked for a feather. Fawkes only pulled out the one. And that one feather had been put into Voldemort's wand."

"Jesus… Lily why did't you ever tell me?"

"I just couldn't say it…"

Lily remembered the very day she had taken Harry for his wand in Diagon Alley. They were all in disguise, yet Ollivander saw right through their guise the moment they set foot in his wand store.

Harry had been was so excited when at last a wand had chosen him.

_The shower of red and green sparks swirled and popped like a fireworks display. Goosebumps prickled all over Lily's skin. She could feel that the Yew and Phoenix feather wand that was in his hand was powerful. Ollivander faltered for a moment. But he withdrew behind the counter, getting ready to wrap up the purchase. _

_Harry grinned happily, giving the wand another flick, just to make sure what he was seeing was real. Only hours before, he had been worried that he would never find a wand, therefore unable to attend Hogwarts. _

"_I can tell by the force between you and the wand, that you will do powerful things, Mr Potter. Powerful and great... But it will be up to you, what sort of power will be used." _

"_Wh-what do you mean, Mr Ollivander?" His green eyes shone bright in the candlelight, he placed the wand carefully on the countertop, suddenly afraid of it. Lily too, felt anxious of it. _

_She placed a hand on her son's bony little shoulder and wanted to know what else Ollivander had to say. After all, the prophecy between the Dark Lord and her child was very much alive, even though one child, Neville Longbottom had died ten years before. The Dark Lord was watching her son's development into a fully fledged wizard._

"_While the phoenix core is different, the yew of your wand is identical to the wand of You-Know-Who's." _

_Harry gasped. He looked to his mother for guidance. Lily had been taken aback, worried and perhaps a little disgusted. But the wand chose Harry and that was that._

"_We are within an age of great peril, of sadness and death, Mr Potter. We must all choose between what is easy and what is right." _

She had never told James and neither did Harry. It had been their little secret.

Dumbledore placed his hand on top of hers, breaking the wisp of her memories. He gazed at her through his half-moon spectacles. Lily couldn't help but think, no, in fact she knew that Albus Dumbledore had known all along.

"Then why has this wand have Fawke's feather—"

"Lily," Dumbledore pulled away, "It is time for us to discuss your sister. Wand lore and books can wait until another day."

He was hiding a lot, it seemed. Dumbledore was a man of many secrets and when he did have an important one, it was usually based around a plan or theory. Except this time she wanted to know because it involved her family. However, for now she let them get on with the meeting.

* * *

It was in the wee hours of the morning they had decided to invade St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. Everyone would be asleep, and the staff at its minimal. Lily, James, Emmeline, Bill and Dumbledore opened the front door of the Potters house, stepping into the summer night air. They had each polyjuiced themselves into lesser known Healers working within the hospital and wore their lime green uniforms.

Lily turned around in time to see Remus walk into the hallway. "Look after my children. If-"

"I'll see you before dawn," Remus replied confidently. The Weasley boys joined him by his side, yawning away their sleep. They would all be looking after the house and her kids, while they were gone.

"I still think you should stay, Lily,"

She glared daggers at her husband. James didn't say another word.

"Everyone, the Portkey will be activated in a minute. We need to hurry up," Emmeline urged.

They briskly walked past the front gate and up the deserted cobbled street. Lily turned around to see her house disappear under the Secret Keeper's Charm.

Emmeline, now a pale freckly, brown-haired healer, began to look for an inconspicuous object on the ground. She found a battered, rusted old can of baked beans and held it up to the street lamp. It began to glow blue. "Quickly everyone!"

They all touched the can with a finger. Their shoulders all touched in the tiny space. James embraced her with his free arm. Lily couldn't help but notice that the warmth he shared felt nice.

He was a wonderful father, Lily thought, and a great husband despite all that had happened. She watched as the intense blue light of the Portkey reflected off his blue eyes and blonde hair. The healer James had polyjuiced into was handsome. But Lily thought her husband was even more so. She blushed.

Then suddenly, a hook around their middles pulled them forward together. Lily took in a deep breath. They whirled through the darkness, all tightly bound, their fingers glued to the can.

But as fast as it had begun, they landed softly and whole on a black Muggle street. Without time to adjust their robes, and their messy hair, the group broke into two. James with Lily hid behind a dumpster. Bald-headed Bill and Emmeline were with a much younger and rounder looking Dumbledore, with a cropped grey beard and hair.

Now they waited. A balmy summer breeze picked up around them, swirling bits of plastic and leaves around their feet. The smell coming from the dumpster was putrid. From above, an owl soared by the almost full moon, and somewhere in an alleyway cats were fighting.

Then, by the gutter, there was a whistle, like a sparrow had been trapped within. Dumbledore flicked his wand, charming a white glowing bird to fly out. It was a beautiful patronus of a phoenix. It flew past the gutter, before dissipating into little tendrils of smoke.

The gutter opened up, as though the earth was being swallowed within. A Healer stepped out. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep. Her face was sweaty and dirty. Her curly grey-brown hair, tied up in a ponytail, was wet with sweat.

"Quickly now, get in!" she whispered hurryingly. Everyone rushed forward, and she herded them down, pushing them into the gutter.

Dumbledore stayed behind. "Send me a message when you are ready."

"We will. And thank you Octavia," Lily said

"Don't worry about it! Just get your arses in." Octavia looked about, before following them in and closing up the hole behind them.

The passageway was damp and dark. James ignited his wand, checking that everyone was there.

Bill examined the passageway. "It's much roomier than I thought."

"Yes, well, it's rather long and steep at times," Octavia huffed.

Healer Octavia Miles, had been a member of the Order of the Phoenix for the last four years. Her husband, a Muggle-born, had been murdered while her then sixteen year old daughter had been abducted and conditioned by Voldemort's followers.

Her determination to find her child and others had helped form a friendship with Lily. They made it their mission, with a few of the other mothers, to raid Death Eater hideaways and resue the people they've taken. So far they've rescued several children and imprisoned wizards.

Octavia instantly answered the call to help Lily save her sister.

"I've been keeping a watch on Petunia Dursley," Octavia started, as she walked down the passageway. "Two Aurors - both ministry owned – I checked, are stationed outside the door and another sits in the room with her all day." She turned around, making them all stop in their track. "Just hours ago, they arrested a Death Eater impersonating the tea trolley aid."

Lily gasped.

"Don't worry… they got them before they entered the room."

"How is she?" James asked, in a voice very unlike his own.

"She's in a deep sleep and tests are being conducted to see what sort of curse was used. Her eyes are open, but she is not there, it seems."

James sighed. "The boy hasn't told us yet what he used on her."

"It wasn't a Dementor Kiss, was it?" Emmeline spoke words Lily didn't dare ask. But it couldn't have been a Dementor. None were sighted at Privet Drive.

"No, it isn't, it is something else, and we are not sure what it is, yet." Octavia squeezed Lily's hand. "She'll be all right, dear."

Lily nodded, wanting to believe.

When they reached St Mungo's, they entered through a cupboard. They were in a potions storage facility. Shelves upon shelves of different coloured bottles lined them, each bottle labelled with what it was. The room was huge and very dry.

"Each shelf is designated a particular bodily function or organ and potions associated with its disease and ailments. Others are for trauma from curses etc," Octavia explained as she opened up a door to enter into, yet another room.

This time the dark room was filled with cauldrons. Some were on top of fires, being stirred by a ladle magically. A tiny little witch with a monocle stood behind one, ticking her clipboard, oblivious to the Healers walking past her.

Lily felt rather nervous. She just wanted to get her sister out without being seen.

Octavia led them up a staircase, and then another, and then another until they reached the main foyer. The floor was a shiny white, the walls a shade of green and lined by many portraits of famous powerful witches, wizards and Healers who had helped shape the hospital. Most were asleep in their frames. The lights were dimmed around and not a soul stirred within the foyer.

Emmeline led them to the lifts, and the bell dinged open for them to enter. Octavia took them to the floor Petunia lay, and straight into an empty room. Lily looked at the crisp linen sheets covering the bed. In a few moments she will face the wreck of her sister.

"Right," Octavia started, "I will enter first, check her over and find that there is something wrong. I will let the Auror know that I'm going to bring you lot in."

"And I'll transform a pillow into Petunia's likeness. And we'll take her onto an awaiting broomstick," James added

It was all going to plan, Lily thought, that was until the Auror inside the four bedded room refused to leave.

"Auror Emery, we need to conduct an examination without you hindering us!" Octavia pounced.

"I have my orders, _Miss_." The Auror spat, his wand out and ready.

Lily moved behind him and whispered, "_Petrificus Totalis_."

The poor Auror straightened out and fell, still as a plank of wood. But before he could fall onto the floor with a thump and alert the others outside, James caught him and placed him standing up in a nearby closet.

Lily rushed to her sister's bedside as Emmeline placed a silencing charm on the door. It was fortunate that Petunia was the only patient in the room.

She took in a deep breath, seeing her sister. The linen sheets were pulled up beneath her chin. Her blonde hair was in disarray, and her dark eyes glassy and very open, as though she had frightened herself into a vegetative state. Lily waved her hand in front of her face. There was no response.

"Oh my!" she whimpered. "Come on, help me." Lily charmed her sister into the air as Emmeline sent Dumbledore a patronus of a dormouse skittering out of the window.

Lily's heart pounded as she moved her sister towards the window. It was then the door opened. James swore and Bill moved past them, positioning himself by James's side. Lily and Emmeline turned quickly to see what was happening.

Octavia Miles stood with her wand pointed in their faces. The two Aurors stood by her sides. One was tall, his eyes small and watery, and his lips thin and pink. The other was well built, but was missing an eye. He looked stronger than ten trolls put together. Octavia's wand hand shook slightly and tears covered her cheeks.

"What's going on?" Lily asked calmly. Her heart sank to the floor.

Emmeline quickly straddled the broomstick, her mouth open in shock.

"Lily, get your sister out." James walked forward in his bid to protect the witches as they struggled to place Petunia onto the broomstick. "Death Eaters!"

"I'm so sorry," Octavia whispered. "This is my chance to get my daughter back. The Dark Lord promised me-"

"No, no… you can't!" Lily said with urgency, letting Emmeline go, who was gripping on both broom and Lily's sister for dear life. Petunia Dursley slumped over Emmeline like a heavy sack. Her arms and legs hung limply. Her purple hospital gown fluttered in the breeze, revealing pale, clammy legs. "You can't do this!"

"Lily, don't make it worse," Octavia shook her head. "Please forgive me. They want you and James. The Muggle can go."

"STUPEFY!" James roared. The enemies ducked, missing his spell as it shattered a lamp.

As Lily and the others hid behind an empty bed, the tall Death Eater pulled back towards the door and slashed his wand at his partner. The well built Death Eater who was ready to throw a curse at them all, fell screaming in pain, blood pouring out from his neck. He shuttered as he gurgled out his last breath.

Octavia whirled around in confusion. Tears were streaming out her eyes, her wand cluttering on the floor.

Was this Death Eater friend or foe?

"Get out! Get out now! I will deal with this mess." The Death Eater yelled to them all.

"Who are you?" Lily asked. She stood still, watching the Death Eater push Octavia to the window and onto a broomstick. His arm touched Lily's. He looked at her, eyes hungrily locking onto hers.

"Lily, MOVE!" James yelled, gripped her arm, urging her out of the window, their hair whipping around their faces.

Lily stood frozen. His eyes were as black as coal. "Severus?"

The Death Eater gazed out the window, grabbing a broomstick for her. "You need to go, now!"

* * *

Harry woke to the trickle of hot liquid stinging the wounds on his back. The sharp smell of urine filtered quickly through the tiny cell in the floor which Harry had been imprisoned in.

He soon realised that an atoner was pissing on him. Harry wanted to see that ugly face tormenting him, but he had no room to move. He heard the man zip his fly shut and laughed his way around the Black Square as he patrolled it again, every so often, the sharp wack of his wand on the cold iron of the cell doors would reverberate across the room. Judging by the Atoner's chortle, Harry thought it might've been Willis.

By now he knew who the commanding Atoners were.

There was Simon Willis who was Captain of the enforcement group. He was a tall broad wizard with a tangle of blonde hair and beard. He gave out the commands and favoured his torture instruments more so than his wand.

Second, was portly Gregory Brodes who always looked at Harry with a hungry look that sent chills through him. Brodes was skilful with curses, but Harry was more worried of what Brodes would do once his punishment was over; once he was tucked away in the darkness of his cell, as Brodes so often hinted.

There were others: Lurchman, an Atoner who would pull him out of the 'trapdoor' cell every night and the one to drop him in it like a bag of rubbish. Agnes Cotter, was a tricky one. One moment she'd hand him a sweet glass of water, then the next she'd slap it out of his hands demanding answers. There was Caster and Meryn in the background who would question him, and a few others who Harry did not know their names yet, but always they watched, and always they patrolled the Black Square, keeping the prisoners in check.

Harry clenched his jaw in pain as he shifted in his little space. One wrist was broken and swollen and the manacles dug into his flesh, chafing his wrists and ankles til he had bled. He trembled from cold and exhaustion, and huddled himself against the eerie whistling breeze that entered the Black Square during storms that constantly bashed against the walls of Azkaban.

Harry's eyes felt persistently heavy with sleep, but even sleep was frightful, and he'd often be jerked awake by nightmares. He couldn't feel his bloodied knees anymore and when the Atoners moved him every night his back felt as though swords were drilling into every bone of his spine.

The pain had begun to take its toll on him. For the first few nights Harry had refused to scream and to give in. His determination was stronger when Umbridge had watched. Their questions were drowned by the white pain that coursed through him.

The torture had been a mixture of curses and instruments, whether magical or Muggle and sometimes even bare hands. All had meant to break him, to make him plead for mercy and yell out the answers to their interrogating questions; such as, "How did you escape?" and "What is the Dark Lord planning?" Always the same questions drilled into him.

Soon after, the pain had began to eat away at him like a caterpillar nibbling at a leaf, he didn't realise he was yelling until it was too late. He didn't realise there were tears flooding his eyes. Harry didn't realise he was giving them the lies they wished to hear until it was too late.

Harry rested his head against the wall of his little cell feeling very sorry for himself, indeed. His stomach hurt, the hunger made him so weak. Every inch of him stung, felt raw. His skin was covered in drying blood, and the dirt and salty tears stuck to him like a robe.

He wondered if prisoners had ever died in the 'trapdoor.' He felt moulded into the position forever, though every night they'd yank him out and he was subjected once again to their interrogation. six nights he had endured. Harry had counted. They made sure he was awake for every one of them.

He was used to his little cell now, but he wasn't used to the Atoners. Harry shivered. He wondered how on earth his double had endured and survived imprisonment in the Black Square for a year.

Harry heard footsteps, but those clanking boots did not belong to Willis, he noticed. His heart pounded, almost trying to escape his chest. Was it night seven already? Truly it couldn't be. "No…" Harry gritted. "I'm not ready." Harry had thought of a plan to escape hours before. He was going to- what was he going to do? Harry shook his head. He couldn't remember. But it had involved attacking the Atoners. He shook his head and wished he hadn't when a sudden wave of vertigo filled his senses. Harry retched.

"Think you're some hotshot Auror, do you?" Willis asked.

Harry held his breath, ignoring the bile in his mouth and the dizziness.

"Get out of my way!" Shacklebolt threatened. His heart leapt. "We have an order to release the boy from the cell."

"Do you now? Let's see it then."

There was a ruffle of paper and then Willis grunting. "Why would Ms Umbridge sign this? She isn't satisfied with the boy's answers yet."

Kingsley Shacklebolt replied, "You are welcome to march straight to the Ministry and ask her yourself. She enjoys your tongue whilst you kneel under her desk—"

"Why you—"

"Enough of this! You'll have other ways to amuse yourselves out of boredom in here. Open it." Harry recognised the new voice belonging to Tonks. She was one of the Aurors who had captured him at the Dursleys, he remembered.

Willis spat, "Lurch… get the boy out."

Harry sucked in short breathes, he was confused and worried with what might happen next. Lurchman pulled the iron bar door open above Harry's head. Next, hands yanked his hair. Harry muffled his yell, his entire body protesting the movement.

"Move. MOVE!" Lurchman yelled. He let go of Harry's hair, and moved his hands beneath his armpits, pulling him out.

Harry fell onto the cobbled floor. His entire body was in agony. He curled into a ball, opened his eyes, and slowly looked up at to the booming black figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt. The purple haired Tonks was staring at Harry with disdain. Shacklebolt gazed quickly over Harry's body.

"Pl—" Harry licked his parched lips. "Please help me."

Shacklebolt grimaced, and kicked him. Harry yelled in pain. "I do not help traitors."

"Move him." Willis grunted.

It was then all a blur to Harry. He saw the faces above him. The flickering candles above covering the figures with a golden glow. Lurchman dragged Harry to a cell, his chains clinking. Shacklebolt, Tonks, Willis and a few other Atoners followed.

"We've kept your old cell, Potter," Lurchman grunted, as he pulled Harry in. "It was a bit damaged by your escape, but we've fixed it up good."

Harry didn't reply, he was more concerned by the pain coursing through his body as he was dragged. The course stone beneath him, grazed him. He was moved into a dark cell and Lurchman let go, cleaned his hands on his blue robe and moved aside. Both Aurors and Willis stood around him.

Harry was so tired, he couldn't lift his head. He was so cold he felt as though he's tense jaw would crack.

"Have Cotter treat his wounds," Shacklebolt said, with a flick of his cloak he left the cell, Tonks a moment after. Willis and Lurchman retreated as well and the cell door was closed.

Harry was left in darkness. It was total silence. His senses were swirling. The pain was horrible and the cold unbearable. He had nothing else to do but let out a cry of despair, fear, and relief. He fell asleep on the cold hard floor.

His dream was filled with bursts of coloured light. There was no sound, and no pain, but Harry recognised them as curses all hitting him from every angle. It wasn't until he heard Ashley and Tony screaming somewhere amongst the light that Harry finally woke up.

"NOOOOOO!" Harry yelled, bolting upright, hands clambering the damp rocky wall of his cell. Ashley and Tony. It was the first time he had thought of them in here. He felt suddenly ashamed he had forgotten about them.

"Potter"

Harry realised he was not alone in the dark cell. His eyes adjusted to the dim light the one floating candle emitted. Agnes Cotter was in the cell with him, holding a wet sponge in her hand.

In shock, hurled himself on top of her, knocking them both to the floor. He wanted to strangle her. To escape.

"Stupid boy—" Kingsley Shacklebolt roared. A flash of red light filled the room and Harry was stunned, his hands still wrapped around the witch's neck.

Cotter gasped and pushed Harry away from her. "Get him back to bed, please," she spat, massaging her neck.

Kingsley pulled Harry back into his pathetic, lumpy bed. The adrenalin he had, leeched what little energy he had in attacking the Atoner.

"What are you doing," Harry rasped.

"I'm cleaning you up," Cotter replied. "If you stay still and don't attack me, I'll be finished soon." She and Kingsley exchanged a veiled look.

"Leave me alone," Harry whispered, as Cotter pinned the last of the bandages on him. Goosebumps prickled over him like a tsunami and he started to shiver again. Cotter helped Harry onto his side; his back was on fire from all the lacerations. She slid a blanket over his shoulders. All that Harry could think of was how wonderful the warmth felt.

"You've got a fever, boy. The last thing you want is to be left alone."

Harry grunted as she moved away and Kingsley came closer, crouching beside Harry.

"Miss Cotter, please give us some privacy."

The Atoner obeyed and left the cell, closing the door behind her. Kingsley quickly flicked his wand at the door, bathing it in a second of light. Harry knew he had placed a silencing charm to protect whatever secrets might be uttered now.

"At the Dursleys, you were never alone with your aunt," Kingsley whispered. "There were two children with you, correct?"

Last thing Harry wanted, was for Ashley and Tony to end up in Azkaban. He shook his head. "You asked me these questions so many times while you interrogated me. I was alone." Harry waited for a wave of pain, but nothing came.

"Don't lie, Potter." Kingsley put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

He recoiled. Again he expected pain. But Kingsley was surprisingly gentle after he had quite painfully kicked him in the middle of the square.

"Do something decent for a change, and tell us where they are."

"I don't know—"

"Harry these are children, not pawns to be used by either side in this war. They need to be protected, to be nourished."

"They'll end up in here."

"They won't and you know it. I'm not going to torture you, just tell me."

It was that moment that Harry understood. Ashley and Tony would be taken to Dumbledore.

"Umbridge didn't sign an order to get me out of that cell, did she?"

Kingsley smirked. "Not willingly."

Harry sighed. "He took Pettigrew's children... and I don't know what sort of curse he placed on Aunt Petunia."

Kingsley straightened up, "Voldemort?"

"No, Harry did. He attacked us."

Kingsley huffed. "Not again with that story."

Harry shook his head. It would be no use getting people to believe him; he was too tired to even try. "I want to speak to Dumbledore. I can't help you with anything else."

"I will tell him."

Harry was relieved, though, that Kingsley was a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

Kingsley stood up. He left the cell without another word. Agnes Cotter shut the iron door in front of her and sat back down.

Harry's eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight as Cotter rinsed out a rag and placed it over his forehead. He closed his eyes. He did not want to see her.

His sleep came hard because the middle-aged old bitch kept waking him.

"Why do you keep waking me. My punishment is over…"

"To observe your vital signs, Potter. I am a trained Healer as you know. It's not fun waking people every few hours, but it must be done."

Harry sneered. "Then how the hell did you end up as an Atoner."

Cotter stopped mopping up his brow and shoulders with icy cold water. "You've never asked me… I… I stole potions from St Mungo's..."

He'd fall asleep again and again, only to dream of falling and Ashley and Tony screaming and his evil brother laughing.

Please review


	15. Cell Number 13

**Chapter 14 **

**Cell Number 13**

**Thank you for reviewing the previous chapter. **

**Please be warned this chapter is quite dark.**

"UP! GET UP NOW! UP!" an Atoner yelled, his wand rapping hard on the iron doors each time he passed a cell. _BOOM. BOOOM. BOOOOOM._ They sounded like explosions.

Harry woke swiftly, with fear rattling his heart. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the black ceiling, taking a moment to realise that his dream with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna who were all sitting in the warmness the Hogshead, enjoying a butterbeer and laughing over some joke was only ever a dream, a beautiful silly dream. It felt good to feel happy again, even though that moment was so far away now. Now, he came to the realisation that he was living a real nightmare.

He was weakened, but he now managed to sit up in bed on his own. Agnes Cotter had continued to help him recover; treating his wounds and spoon feeding him disgusting gruel. He only began to walk to the cell door and back to his miserable bed without collapsing.

Harry's cell door banged open. He jolted.

"You too Potter, get your arse out of the cell. Cotter's mollycoddling you no more," Lurchman spat. In a couple of huge strides, Lurchman towered over Harry. He pulled Harry by the arm, making him trip and fall onto the floor in a tangle of blankets.

His bandaged knees began to bleed again and the scabs upon his back, down to his thighs cracked open. His body felt a washed with fire. Harry hissed in pain and shielded the blinding light with a hand to his face.

Lurchman smirked before he threw something at Harry's head. The Atoner left the cell to terrorise another prisoner, leaving the door wide open.

Fumbling, Harry squinted at the floor and picked up a grey tunic. Feeling a little more awake and shivery, he untangled himself from the blankets and got up, shakily. He could barely stand, and the effort exhausted him. He breathed in deeply to steady himself, as Lurchman's shouts were joined by other Atoners voices and the occasional scream or yell from a prisoner down the Black Square.

Harry pulled the thin grey tunic over his nakedness and stared at the open cell as the light streamed in. He had never seen more clearly in his life without glasses. He could even distinguish the dust motes floating in front of him.

He jolted when he heard another yell from a prisoner. He wondered what was going on, more importantly was it safe to walk out of his little cell. But Harry knew defying the Atoners by staying in his cell would cause more harm than joining his fellow inmates. Using the gritty damp walls of his cell as a walking aid, he shakily made his way out of the cell. His cell was bare except for his lumpy bed a small table and stool, and a trench by a corner used as a toilet. He noticed for the first time, perhaps because there was more light in his cell, than one candle, that the walls, untouched by Harry's escape was defaced with graffiti. Some were scratched into the stone bricks, other more chillingly written in blood. Near the doorway, there was a metal bowl, a cup and a spoon. Grasping the cold iron door, Harry pulled himself out and the sight that he saw made him gasp.

Lining the walls of the Black Square, all the prisoners stood, like a grey filthy ribbon. Some stood proud, their chins up, looking straight ahead. Others were hunch-backed and gaunt, their eyes sunken and soulless. A few trembled, looking as though one little sound or touch would cause them to wet themselves in fright. Harry straightened up, cringing with every little effort and looked around at all the weary faces.

They were all men and women, young and old, some were guilty, others innocent were all broken. The oldest prisoner was a little old wizard with a dirty silver beard that reached his waist. The war touched had them all, no matter which side they were on, or what words they said against the ministry, they were all in this room suffering together. They were the worst of the worst.

Harry recognised a few familiar Death Eaters; MacNair, Yaxley, Rookwood and Barty Crouch Jr. They didn't look fearsome now. All eyes were turned on Harry. They were either curious or frightened to him back in their fold. The Death Eaters he recognised and a lot more of those he didn't, acknowledged him silently, as though a long lost brethren had returned. The respect showed. Harry found it disquieting and uncomfortable.

The Atoners patrolled in the middle of the square. Wands were out and ready. Harry noticed that Agnes Cotter was nowhere to be seen. There was a part of Agnes he felt comforting, perhaps it was her seemingly tender care and gentle touch, but Harry did not take this as a sign that he should trust the Atoner at all.

"Hold your hands out," Brodes boomed, as he walked around, his bald head reflecting in a thousand candle lights.

Harry copied exactly what the other prisoners did and held up his hands in front of him. He didn't want to get one movement wrong. Manacles and chains suddenly materialised around their wrists and ankles, and a long chain snaked between them, linking them to each other. Harry tested their strength, before giving in. He observed the others in their silent suffering. No one spoke; all had bowed their heads now as the Atoners moved around them.

"You have forty minutes of exercise," Willis rasped, observing them as though they were a herd of sheep, and Willis's men were the dogs to keep them in place. "Lovegood, you may begin,"

Harry looked up so suddenly, he felt dizzy. _Lovegood? Where?_ The chain in front tugged at him, everyone was slowly moving. Their bare feet shuffled along on the cold stone floor. No sound was heard, except the scrape and clinking of the heavy iron. Harry almost fell with his first step, but somehow managed to keep upright, always trying to focus on the original wizard who moved the chain of prisoners around. His dirty blonde hair was long and tangled. His bony shoulders slumped. His thoughts turned to Luna, and if she was alive in this world.

Harry was obviously slowing everyone down. Not only was he not in the condition to walk, and his mind was now distracted by Xenophilius Lovegood's solemn figure leading the spectacle.

"Keep moving. Potter."

It was a barely a whisper, but Harry turned his head toward the prisoner behind him. Yaxley had placed his hand on Harry's back, pushing him forward.

When the Atoners were not looking in his direction, Harry would hear Yaxley whispering. Sometimes he'd understand the Death Eater, other times he wouldn't.

"Is there any news from the outside? Is my family ok?"

Harry shook his head and shugged.

"Has the Dark Lord given us orders to follow?"

Harry shook his head again.

"Keep moving, or you'll encounter their wrath again."

Harry felt the Death Eater place something into his hip pocket and not another word was uttered again.

The exercise was monotonous and tiring for all the weakened prisoners and the cold around them pierced their bones. The Atoners grew restless in the middle and began joking to themselves. Even though there seemed to be no action between the prisoners except for their moving feet, no communication at first, Harry began noticing little things between them, whenever the Atoners looked away. Some had done exactly what Yaxley had done, placing things into other prisoners' pockets; others passed these objects or messages between prisoners until they found the right person. Harry had begun to wonder what the message was in his pocket. In fact he could not wait to open it. Perhaps it was from Lovegood himself.

The trapdoor in the middle was empty, the rusted iron bars, red like bared blooded fangs. The blood staining the floor around the iron pegs drilled into the stone, blossomed like the petals of a red brown flower. Harry shook off the memory of feeling of the lash cracking upon his back. That split second the whip hit his skin and the pain that rippled after. It made him shiver.

"Stop! Time is up," Willis Shouted. "Move around to your cells." The prisoners obeyed. Lovegood moved to his and the circle of prisoners moved in line with him. Harry shuffled to cell number 13 and Yaxley to his, and so on.

"Hands out in front…"

The chains slithered away and vanished with a clink.

"Back into your cells you worthless scum!"

Harry moved in as quickly as he could into the dim light of his cell. The door slammed behind him.

He breathed out long and slow, feeling the tension flow into the stale air. The door had a slat wide enough for food to be put through. Harry looked out, watching the Atoners patrol.

Harry moved away, clutching the wall for support and sat gingerly on his bed. He quickly retrieved the message in his pocket and unravelled it with shaky fingers.

_August 20th, 1998_

_There have been rumours about the Dark Lord weakening. Is there any truth to this?_

_I cannot believe you were caught again!_

_Cr__ouch_

Harry was perplexed. He remembered Tony and Ashley vaguely speaking about it. Just thinking about it made his mood better, but for all he knew this rumour might be a plan to draw out the Light Side into a trap. He looked around for anything to write back with.

When Harry looked back down at the piece of withered old paper he saw that the words had vanished. It was as though his gut instinct took over, a relic instinct from his past years at Hogwarts.

"_No! Potter,_" Harry responded in a whisper.

The letters slowly scripted themselves onto the paper, and then vanished. It reminded Harry of Riddle's diary. The magic was so oblivious to the Atoners that they had forgotten to add it to their anti-magic charms around the cells. It was a very serious flaw, which had put a smile on Harry's lips. He was feeling a little brighter, indeed. The only magic that could be preformed within the cells was by the Atoners and Aurors.

Harry placed the paper into a ripped hole of his pillow for safe keeping and lay down. He fell to sleep instantly, only waking to receive food. The gruel was slopped onto his little bowl and foul smelling water poured into his cup. Harry could hardly finish it, but he forced himself too. The prisoners only had one meal a day. The meal only eased the hunger away, but they got no sustenance from it, no nutrition. It made them weak and weary. It was a ploy, so they would not have the energy to plan a revolt and escape or attack the Atoners.

Without a window, there was no sense of time within the cell. Day was night, night was day. It was all the same. Harry wondered when Dumbledore would come, if he ever did. He peered through the slat in the door. But there was no one except for the Atoners. No visitors had come to see him.

Hours had past when Harry heard the iron door to his cell scrape open, he instantly thought it was Dumbledore. There was a moment of hope or reprieve, but it was quickly dashed, and instead Harry experienced dread. A cold rippled through his body.

They had finally come for him, just as Brodes had hinted.

Harry flung himself out of bed, and backed himself into the corner. He gripped the tiny table next to him. Not only was it a barrier, but Harry was ready to fling it at their heads.

Brodes strolled in with Bill Meryn and Octarius Caster, as though they owned the cell, and perhaps thinking that they owned Harry. Brode's bald head glistened in a cold sweat, his hands gripping his thick leather belt, looking around the cell, slightly amused. Caster tapped a club against his fingers, and Meryn moved forward with his wand out.

Brodes grinned. "Evening Potter, did you miss us?"

Harry flung the table at the wizards.

* * *

Lily peered at the bedside clock, it was midnight. The house was still and dark, yet in the little guest bedroom, Lily brushed away a loose strand of her sister Petunia's golden hair, as she lay sleeping and unable to wake because of dark magic. Her eyes were taped shut; otherwise she'd be sleeping with her eyes wide open.

She watched her ill sister like a hawk. While Lily had taken more of their mother's looks, Petunia looked more like their father.

She touched her sister's pale cheek, and found it cold to the touch. It was almost the end of summer, but Petunia was frightfully cold. Lily lifted Petunia's blankets to her chin, and smoothed them out lovingly. Octavia Miles had reassured her that she was stable. Whether she would one day awaken, was another matter.

Lily blinked away her tiredness, as Octavia, who slept in an armchair, began to snore. Normally the Order would have imprisoned Octavia for such a betrayal, but Lily insisted that they didn't. She was only doing what any desperate mother would do to save their child.

From what the Healer had told them during her interrogation, was that Lucius Malfoy had approached her and offered her daughter, Emily, in exchange for trapping Lily and James. They weren't strangers to kidnap attempts on their lives. In the Dark Lord's eyes they were valuable assets once Conditioned.

It was then, Dumbledore had told Octavia, placing his hand on her shoulder that Emily was now a fully fledged Death Eater, and would not hesitate to kill her own mother. Octavia burst into tears.

Just like Harry, Lily thought. My little boy lost. A tear escaped from Lily's eye, trickling down her cheek. If Severus was with her at that very moment, he would've scooped up her little tear and kept it forever in a vial, near his heart. Lily snorted in laughter at her own thought. Even though he was a Death Eater, he loved her deeply, ever since the first time they met as little children, but Lily could not love him back that way. He knew and respected that, but he hated it.

She was just as surprised as they all were that he had helped them escape. Yet Lily knew Dumbledore had known all along.

_He is a Death Eater… It hasn't stopped me from communicating with him… but only because of Harry._

"Lily," James whispered. Lily turned. He was leaning against the door frame in a singlet and paisley pants, his lean arms folded. His hair was messier than usual because of sleep. "Come to bed."

"I will… soon." She wanted her sister to know that she was there for her. Petunia would be so frightened and confused when she was to wake.

James's warm fingers brushed her shoulders. He kissed her, before wrapping his arms around her. Lily rested her head on his chest.

"I hope she wakes soon." A little part of Lily refused to believe what everyone had said.

"Could you imagine her shock?"

"Of course, James she's been cursed—"

"No I mean the shock that she's in our house."

Lily huffed. "What are we going to do about Vernon and Dudley? We can't keep charming their landline to speak in Petunia's voice every time they ring it from overseas. They need to know."

James pulled his arms away and sat on the arm of the armchair. "Vernon will want her moved immediately. He will not want to set foot into this house. Let's wait until she wakes up and then we'll tell them." Lily nodded in agreement.

He gazed quickly over his sister-in-law's still body. "Never in a million years would I see a Muggle like her, under this roof. What—"

Both Lily and James saw a bright green light shone into the room. The light turning the white lace curtains into green.

"GET DOWN!" James pulled lily beneath the bed.

_BOOOOOOOOOOOM!_ Out of nowhere there was a loud earth shaking sound, like a bomb had gone off. The little guest bedroom shook, the lamp on the bedside table crashed to the floor and portraits on the walls fell.

Octavia woke in fright, and so had the rest of the house.

"MUMMMYYYY!" Jessica screamed.

Lily fought her way free from James's grip running to check her children. It was all a blur in the hallway. Faces peered out. Remus and Sirius appeared out of nowhere, quickly having been alerted.

"Mum, Dad, what's going on," Chris asked hurriedly, as Jessica wrapped her little body around Lily.

But Michael answered first, as he peered out of the hallway window, his eyes as big as saucers. "Shit, Godric's Hallow—"

Lily had to see for herself. Green flames rose like blades of grass into the night sky. Explosions continued, but not as big as the first and within the midst of the flames and smoke and screams from Muggles and wizards alike, there was a battle. Curses flung this way and that in a multitude of colours.

"Death Eaters…" Lily gasped.

"And Grindelwald supporters," James added, holding Lily's hand tightly.

"Get the children and Petunia, out," Remus said to Lily. He pulled Jessica away from her mother and clasped a cloak onto her shoulders.

"Come on, James," Sirius urged, wand out. There was excitement in his voice.

"NO, JAMES!" Lily screamed while Remus led her and her children towards the fireplace in the living room. "YOU'RE COMING WITH US."

James was torn. "I've got to fight—"

"NO YOU DON'T!"

"LILY, GET THE KIDS OUT!" Sirius yelled. He gripped James's arm, pulling him out into the inferno that was Godric's Hallow. As soon as the front door opened, the heat and fiery ashes seeped in. The screams were horrendous. More Order members appeared within the house and out, ready to fight.

Lily shook her head, as Remus pushed them all into the grate. The Floo flames engulfed her. Tears covering her cheeks, she prayed, _please, please let them be safe. _She held onto her three children as they whirled into the safety of The Burrow.

* * *

"Potter," Agnes Cotter whispered as she stemmed the blood flowing from Harry's broken nose. "You mustn't fight them every time they come into your cell."

Harry huffed aghast resting his sore head on the stone wall, his right eye swollen shut and throbbing. "I'm not giving in!" The memories of Brodes's hot sweet smelling breath on the back of his neck made him sick to the stomach. "I'll fight them a hundred times more if I have to."

Cotter drew out her wand and muttered, "Episkey." The pain Harry experienced vanished and his nose quickly healed. He sat in the corner of the room, his grey tunic now ripped and wet with blood, the cold prickled his skin. He must have been unconscious for a few minutes, in the corner of his cell.

He threw the blood soaked wad of cloth from his nose across the room in a fit of rage.

"It only makes things worse for you." Cotter moved onto his dislocated shoulder and fixed it with a small painful pop. "Now let me have a look at you—"

"No!" Harry pushed her hand away, and covered himself with his torn tunic. "I'm fine." It was a lie, ignoring the raw burning ache and the blood trickling down from between his thighs. But he could deal with his other injuries without her help again.

"All right…" She pulled away, not arguing. "Call for me if you're in need... and if you don't stop bleeding." She had a spare tunic with her and she helped him into it. "And drink this, it'll calm you, and lessen the effects of the events."

Harry gladly took the small clear vial from her hands. "Thank you." The clear thick liquid tasted bitter and sweet at the same time and stuck to his tongue for awhile. He felt the effects instantly. Everything that had occurred lifted, it was as though a huge weight drifted away and he could suddenly breathe again. Harry felt a golden wash of serenity fill him, and a dull sense of happiness.

"What is this stuff?" He handed the empty vial back

"It can be quite addictive if used incorrectly." Cotter explained wearily, staring at the vial. "I never give out its name. I use it sparingly, although some of the prisoners use it often. The Atoners give it to them for favours."

Harry did not want to know what these favours were.

She proceeded to help him stand. It was then that the graffiti on the walls suddenly became interesting to Harry. _Find the Stitch. Find the Stitch. A Stitch in time saves nine. _

"What…" Harry drank in the words, a finger tracing the letters. "What does it all mean?"

"You tell me!"

As Harry lay in bed curled into a tight ball, blissfully ignoring the events of the night, he rummaged through his pillow pulling out the piece of paper. Harry decided that he would not want to send Crouch a reply. Instead he whispered, "Do you know what the_ Stitch _is? Potter."

He would send it to the one person who might know what it was - Mr Lovegood.

* * *

The days wore on with a bland, terrifying routine. The prisoners would wake with the Atoners screaming at them and every second day they would be made to exercise.

The second time Harry was chained and made to walk (this time with Rookwood leading the circle), he slipped the note into a pocket of the prisoner in front of him. "Lovegood," Harry whispered into the air. The prisoner ahead, turned his head. His grizzly grey hair was foul and putrid and his grey beard was thick. He nodded slightly in response, and carefully pulled out the note when the Atoners weren't watching and repeated the process, until finally by the end of the exercise regime, the note just barely made it into Lovegood's pocket.

"Back to your cells," Brodes sang.

Harry caught Barty Crouch's eye, before entering his cell and shook his head in response to his question. Disappointed, Crouch retreated.

"Remember, if you wish to confess your crimes and suffer a quick death, there is paper and ink in your top drawer," Brodes added, tapping the whip gently on his thigh.

Harry doubted the prisoners would confess, unless they were truly desperate to die. But now, Harry knew where spare bits of parchment could be found for more messages in future, within his smashed and damaged table.

Back in the darkness of his cell, Harry would pace up and down, thinking about the graffiti, the enigmatic words his dimensional double had written.

Sometimes, in exhaustion Harry would just sleep, other times he turned his mind to back home and thought about possible locations of Horcruxes and if Ron and Hermione had succeeded in finding any. In other moments, Harry would think about Ashley and Tony. Then of course, memories of Brodes and his cronies would slither into his mind, and there would be no escape then.

Then there came an hour where everything, every movement, and every thought was a chore. Thinking just about anything was useless. Harry had no desire to do anything, but stare at the walls, always at the walls, and when he closed his eyes, he saw nothing except the writing…

_The Stitch, find the Stitch… A Stitch in time saves nine… The Stitch… Find the Stitch… The Stitch…_

The words must have drove Death Eater Harry mad.

Harry expected a response from Lovegood, quickly, but nothing came, exercise after exercise, Lovegood ignored Harry, deliberately. Every time Harry tried to catch his attention he looked away.

Then Brodes visited him again and again, the fight that ensued left him weak and wounded. But he vowed he would no give in to their assault, even if it killed him.

During the fifth exercise regime, Harry got a note. He wasn't sure that it belonged to Lovegood, but any communication, from anyone would break the nightmarish routine he had fallen into when all was quiet and dark in his cell.

Harry suddenly jolted, when he slammed into the body in front. The line had stopped moving. He looked towards the commotion and saw that a female prisoner had collapsed onto her knees. The Atoners moved like a pack towards her. Her fellow inmates to her front and back urged her to get up, but Harry could tell she was too exhausted. She was gaunt and her ratty brown hair in a long mess.

"Move away, now," Willis boomed as he whipped the prisoners helping the witch.

"No, NO NOT THE TRAPDOOR! I'LL GET UP, PLEASE DON'T!" the witch screamed. Two Atoners manhandled her as she struggled, they threw her into the trapdoor, screaming.

"KEEP MOVING!" Lurchman yelled, over the witch's pleas and tears, whipping the prisoners to move again.

Harry was stunned and it took a painful prod from Yaxley to get him walking.

"Cunts!" the wizard chained in front of Harry, spat.

Harry froze, so did Yaxley. Willis had turned to their direction, and caught Harry's eyes. "Who spoke?

The wizard who had spoken fell silent and Harry found himself unable to respond.

Willis slowly approached them, judging Harry, Yaxley and the unnamed wizard.

"That was a very unwise move." The whip Willis held, forced Harry's chin up. Harry did not blink, wishing to burn a hole through his head with his unblinking stare, filled with hate.

"It was Fletcher, Atoner Willis," Yaxley said. "Potter and I will vouch that it was him."

All that went through Harry's mind was the thought of the whip and the trapdoor and pure hate coursing through him.

The wizard to right of Harry had a stoic expression on his face. It was then that Harry recognised him as Mundungus Fletcher, who was at least in Harry's own world, was a cowardly thieving member of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Filthy stinkin' Death Eaters!" Mundungus roared.

Yaxley sneered.

Willis narrowed his eyes, calculating the situation. "Yes, Fletcher… yes it sounded like it was you."

He unfurled his whip and lashed his across the side of Mundungus's head. Blood sprayed onto Harry. The wizard cried out in pain, hand pressing on the wound. The chains snaked away and the wizard backed away from the approaching Atoners, gathering around them, pushing Harry and Yaxley and other Prisoners away.

"DON'T YOU TOUCH ME!" he yelled, cowering like a frightened animal.

Willis unfurled the whip again, it glowed red. "Calling us cunts, eh?"

"Beg your pardons sirs, I didn't mean it. It was a slip," Mundungus snivelled, shaking.

"Just a slip of the tongue..." Brodes stepped forward, smiling.

Two Atoners grabbed Mundungus by the arms and shoved him into the middle of the Black Square. He was chained to an iron peg and made to kneel.

"BACK TO YOUR CELLS!"

The prisoners quickly obeyed. Harry limped into his and into the furthered corner as the cell. Doors were slammed shut. He covered his ears, the screams were terrifying. He squeezed his eyes closed. Harry did not wish to see what was happening to Mundungus.

A part of him felt sickened at the thought that he did not defend Mundungus, and stop them from hurting him. But his other part was glad he was not the one that was chained to the iron peg and tortured. He was not ready to fight just yet.

The screaming stopped soon. For Harry, the silence was a godsend. The iron doors were opened and the prisoners were made to stand in solemn silence outside of their cells, they were all staring at the naked, bloodied body of Mundungus Fletcher in the middle. He was dead, and his tongue was torn out. None of them seemed shocked or saddened. Harry realised that they were all used to this sort of spectacle.

But for Harry, he looked away, sickened, angry and sad. Then, there was the guilt that rose in him, like the rising sun, hot and red making his insides squirm.

"Let this be a warning," Willis said calmly, "We will not tolerate such behaviour."

In his dark cell, Harry lay on his bed listless, every time he closed his eyes, he could see Mundungus. He shook away the image. _The Stitch…_ He concentrated on the graffiti and suddenly remembered that he still had not read the note. He quickly pulled it open and read the contents.

_I suppose this 'Stitch' you are referring to, is the Obsidian Stitch. It is a fabled dagger used in Dark rituals. Nobody knows if it truly exists, its origins, and where it is._

_I am not interested in Dark objects. Do not contact me again. _

_Lovegood._

Harry looked up at the graffiti on the walls. His double was looking for it, but why? What was this dagger?

He feel into a fevered sleep later, the thought of the dagger never left him and it coursed its way through his dream as he sped down a never-ending corridor filled with iron doors.

_He was trying to escape, and inside every door he opened, Mundungus's corpse stood, his tongueless mouth spoke. _

"_A Stitch in time…" _

_Harry slammed the door in the corpse's face and ran down to another door, hoping for a way out, but Mundungus greeted him on the other side of it again. _

"_Saves nine…"_

"_GET OUT… LEAVE ME ALONE," Harry screamed at the lifeless body. He gasped when he saw blood on his hands. It was Mundungus's blood and again and again, every door he opened, Mundungus tormented him._

_Harry heard a slow clap echoing behind him, catching up to him. Then there was a laugh, an all too familiar laugh. _

"_You can't escape, Potter. You're mine," Brodes laughed, licking his bottom lip._ _Meryn, and Caster laughed at the retort, they appeared behind him._

"_No… no!" Harry shook his head and started to run again, but he could not get away fast enough, they were getting closer. _

_Then the corridor changed and he was falling, falling into a black abyss. He heard shouts, it sounded like his own voice, getting louder. _

Harry suddenly woke, he inhaled water. Confused, all he could see was water, cold freezing water covering him, his eyes stinging. He struggled, but the strong hands held him down. He was going to drown.

And then the reprieve, he was pulled up. Harry coughed violently, sucking in the sweet air. Wizards in black robes surrounded him, all wearing golden masks, and their eyes peering through black slits. They weren't Atoners.

Who were they? Where was he? Was this a dream?

"Fight it, Potter," A wizard in a golden mask spoke, holding up Harry's chin.

"FUCK YOU!" Harry spat. But it was not words from Harry's own mouth. Confused, Harry realised he was seeing and feeling what Death Eater Harry was experiencing. He had unwittingly possessed him.

The golden masked wizard sighed. "Again," he told the two men, holding Harry by the arms. He was forced into the water again.

Harry woke up gasping for breath. He clung onto the thin grey tunic and shivered for dear life. The dark of his cell was no comfort and he pulled the dim floating candle towards the head of the bed, staring at the little dancing light.

Harry had no time to examine what was happening to his double. The cell door creaked open.

"NO!" Harry yelled, scrambling out of bed, dipping his fingers into the grooves of the stone wall. The contents of his dream and vision escaped into the darkness.

It was a nightmare upon nightmare.

Harry expected to see Brodes and his friends with him, but as his eyesight adjusted to the light pouring into his cell, he realised that it was only one tall wizard.

"Harry…"

The voice was calm, filled with concern.

It was Dumbledore. Finally he had come.

Harry breathed in fast. He did not let go of the walls, in fear it was all a trick, and Brodes would come in after.

"I will not hurt you," he said gently, as a person would say when trying to capture an injured animal.

Dumbledore walked into the cell. He was much different to the Dumbledore Harry remembered fondly and more recently, with much anger, in his own world. This Dumbledore looked much older, more solemn, and his blue eyes shone no trademark twinkle, no amusement… nothing. He hinted nothing, and Harry felt no connection with the man.

"May I sit?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded. With his back toward Harry he whirled his wand around and a chintz chair popped into view.

Harry would've offered the stool, but that lay splintered into pieces in a corner of the room. Harry had hid one of the stool legs, under his mattress, slowly sharpening it on the stone. Ready for the next time Brodes entered his cell.

"You've wanted to speak with me?"

"…Took you long enough," Harry spat. He sat on the edge of his bed, facing Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sighed, "I have been indisposed with duties. The war does not stop while you are in here, and a lot has happened since you were returned here."

There was a moment of silence. Harry opened his mouth, but he could not speak. Dumbledore waited expectantly.

"Sir, I'm—"

"I know," Dumbledore bowed his head. He took Harry's hand gently. His warmth seeped into Harry's cold skin.

"Know what, exactly?" Harry asked slowly. But he already knew the answer.

"I've known since the very moment you entered this world."

Harry felt as though time had suddenly stopped. He turned away, shaking his head; he didn't want to see that old face, and pulled his hand away.

**Stay tuned for the next Chapter. **


	16. The Favour

**Chapter 15**

**The Favour**

* * *

Harry thought he hadn't heard the old wizard correctly, he doubted those few words like they had been a figment of his imagination. _It's got to be a mistake_, Harry thought, shaking his head.

He suddenly realised how dark his cell was. It was a darkness that was thick and suffocating. At once, he couldn't keep still, Harry began to pace up and down, keen to be far away from Dumbledore. Any movement would help him think and to lessen the brooding range of emotions he was beginning to feel and to suppress the impulse to lash out.

Dumbledore sat silent, watching Harry as he paced. There was no hint of an expression or feeling that betrayed him in his lined face.

Finally, after what felt like several minutes, the shock of those words had worn off and only then did Harry start to speak.

"So… so, let me get this straight… you know… you've _really_ known from the very beginning- the very moment I've entered this Mirror Universe, that I'm a different Harry Potter?"

"That is, indeed, correct." Dumbledore nodded gravely, sitting rather regally in his floral purple and green chair.

Harry drew in a deep breath, feeling both hurt and anger rushing through his veins, feeling the pressure rise, ready to explode. "Then why the hell—please tell me why you've left me in here, if you knew?"

Dumbledore failed to respond, he bowed his head once more. Harry couldn't take the silence any longer.

"I WANT ANSWERS!" Harry shouted, not caring if anyone had heard outside his cell, even though he was sure the Mufliato Spell has been put in place.

And then all his frustration, all his anger, the humiliation, the torture and violations he had suffered burst forth like a dragon letting out a hot searing breath. He spat into Dumbledore's face with a rush of words.

"HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHAT I HAVE BEEN THROUGH?"

He felt as though he could not raise his voice high enough; he wanted every single word to pierce through Dumbledore, to injure him horribly, just like the Atoners had made Harry suffer.

"I'M AN INNOCENT MAN! I HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS WORLD! I HAVE MY OWN _FUCKING_ WAR TO DEAL WITH!"

"I know…"

Harry heard the wizard whisper. His voice was soft. It didn't sound like a voice Dumbledore would make. It was so unlike him. But Harry was incensed that Dumbledore still had his head bowed, still spoke calmly back.

"Look at me," Harry spoke over the man he had trusted and admired, and yet he had felt betrayed when his secrets were finally made known in his own world. "LOOK AT ME!" Harry screamed.

The headmaster obeyed quietly, unperturbed by Harry's yells. When Harry saw the tears glistening in the old wizard's eyes, he hesitated ever so slightly.

"I am so sorry, Harry. Please sit down."

Harry realised he was standing over Dumbledore, his hands in tight fists. He noticed that his fingernails had dug into his palms_._

"Please sit… I have a favour to ask of you."

_A favour to ask? What was this wizard playing at?_ Harry just wanted to escape this place for good, yet Dumbledore wanted him to do something. _How dare him._

With the hovering dim candlelight flickering above their heads, Harry took the cue to sit down on his bed, wincing from the pain as he did so. He tried to steady his shallow breathing, to settle the anger slithering round and round in his chest like a big snake, constricting his heart.

"Thank you…" Dumbledore blinked several times. "I am deeply ashamed of what has transpired here, but your imprisonment, however innocent you are, and your suffering, will not be in vain—"

"What—?"

"Let me speak—"

"I'm all ears!" Harry spat venomously, staring daggers into the old man's glistening blue eyes.

"I only ask, and this is the favour I ask, is that you patiently wait a little longer before I get you out of here…"

Harry scoffed out loud, not believing any word said. "You want me to rot in here, until you're ready to get me out?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly, weighing his actions thoroughly.

"Unbelievable!" Harry had started pacing up and down the cell again. Punching the stone wall, punching the graffiti until the blood hid it suddenly sounded so appealing, but what he really wanted to do was punch this world's Dumbledore right in the face.

"I can't believe what I'm hearing."

"I know this is hard, but I hope it won't be much longer… perhaps a few more weeks—"

"_A few more weeks?" _Harry hissed_._ This cannot be happening. Out of all people who could've helped him, he did not expect Dumbledore to keep him in here.

"Please stay strong, Harry. Do not do anything rash, you will not survive in here."

"Don't you think I _fucking_ know that?" Harry was absolutely outraged. How could he do anything against the injustices within the Black Square without being killed?

"Do you have any clue what the Atoners do to people in here?"

"Yes. It is the price of war and regrettably the price you've paid for coming here. Even though you are, as you say, an innocent man."

"So it's like that, is it?" Harry laughed out loud towards the dark ceiling, swatting away the hovering candle, making its light dance erratically. "So- So, you want me to just happily bend over the next time they come in here and—"

"I know exactly what they've done to you, Harry. It tears at my soul to know of your suffering," Dumbledore replied hurryingly. "I will get you out and I will do everything in my power to help you back home. Your world needs you… however, it seems, we need you as well."

_Fuck this world's problems,_ Harry wanted to say. He didn't care about it; the war could go on for another twenty-eight years for all he cared. He swallowed, eyes squeezed shut. Ashley and Tony's faces appeared in his mind, and then his heart fell into a bottomless pit. He couldn't leave them stranded. He took a deep breath and continued.

"I don't care about this world!"

Dumbledore smiled lightly as though he knew. "I think you do care. It is in your nature. You are everything your mother is, except for looks."

"But why can't you get me out now? Don't you understand I have my own battle to fight? My friends need me. I need to destroy all of Voldemort's Horcruxes before I can finish him off."

"May I ask how many have you destroyed thus far?"

It was then Harry realised that Voldemort had created Horcruxes in this world as well. "Three so far and there's another three to be found. We were looking for Ravenclaw's diadem when I was transported here."

Dumbledore gazed deeply into Harry's face for a brief moment, a frown playing on his lips before he looked away, deep in thought.

"That is precisely why you've turned up here, Harry. Rowena's diadem had never been kept in the Giant's Cut. Voldemort, as I'm sure as interested as he would be of the properties of the cave, would've been too oblivious to even notice its power to even go there. He was more interested in acquiring an object of Ravenclaw's that was precious, not her knowledge, and he would've kept that object in a place that meant something personal to him… like Hogwarts."

"Oh…" Harry said, feeling quite deflated and disappointed. Their entire trip, the months spent on the diadem had been wasted after all. This is why, with all his longing, he so wished Dumbledore had not died in his own world. There was so much information he had not given him.

"But you were right in assuming that the diadem is a Horcrux."

"Am I right in saying that you've destroyed Horcruxes as well?" Harry cautiously asked. "I mean, unless you've been reading my mind like a book, you don't seem at all surprised by all the information I'm giving you."

"I have never destroyed any of the Horcruxes," Dumbledore continued before Harry could interrupt.

Harry could've asked who had destroyed them, but instead he wanted answers on more pressing issues. "How did I end up here, then?"

"The Giant's Cut had been a place where Rowena would experiment with Mirror Portkeys."

"So that book that pushed me into this world was a Mirror Portkey." Harry had been right all along.

Dumbledore nodded. "I suppose it had been floating towards you."

"Yeah!" Harry sat up straighter. "Yeah it came my way and I just grabbed it."

"The Mirror Portkey had been drawn to you because the universe it had been connected to was close to your own and would've interested you. The other Mirror Portkeys, however intriguing they might have been, would be worlds entirely different from your own. For example, Voldemort may never exist in one, in another; the Medieval Muggles may have driven all magic bloodlines to extinction. Or you and I may not exist in another. Perhaps there may be a world out there where your mother might even have married Severus Snape instead of James Potter."

Harry laughed out mirthlessly at that possibility. "When pigs fly!"

Dumbledore raised his bushy eyebrows. "You never know, there might actually be flying pigs in one Mirror World. That said there is an endless supply of Mirror Universes out there. Rowena only touched upon a few of them..."

After what seemed like several minutes of silence Harry spoke. "Ravenclaw was a genius. Although, a bit dangerous from what I've experienced. Did she ever travel here?"

"Rowena travelled to every world she discovered, but only for a minute or so. I find it amazing how many similarities both our worlds have."

"This world is nothing like my own world! Our war only started gathering pace over a year ago, yours has lasted many years. Besides, I am nothing like your Harry!" he seethed, pacing the cell again.

"Yes, you may not be a murdering Death Eater like our Harry, but you are exactly like the boy I remember fondly and proudly taught."

"Why did he switch allegiance? From what I heard his story doesn't quite add up."

"That is something I am not sure about… I have been investigating… though I only have theories for the time being."

"Which you're not going to tell me about," Harry voiced out loud.

"I would not say in here." Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "But he was a caring boy, always concerned with the welfare of others, always doing his best to create an alliance between the houses of Hogwarts, especially the Sytherins. He even formed a friendship with Draco Malfoy…" Dumbledore shook his head. "Harry had almost won him over to the Light, and then Harry himself turned…"

Harry found the concept of a friendship with Malfoy quite repulsive.

"Then please…" Harry pleaded; sitting down opposite Dumbledore again, fingers lightly touching the wizard's woollen blue sleeves. "Please just remember that boy you taught and get me out now. I'll help you with… with anything…" he was pleading, saying anything that would satisfy anyone.

"But you are helping me! You are in fact helping many people. You, staying here will change lives."

"How? You're not explaining everything to me!" His anger was welling up again.

Dumbledore took a moment to compose he's next words. "I'm guessing that you are beginning to experience newfound powers and abilities the longer you stay here…"

"Yes," Harry agreed. "When I met Harry in the cave, he mentioned to me about this... something about being able to change and develop into your Mirrored version."

Dumbledore nodded, surprised. "He tracked you down the first time, because he had been waiting near his family's residence for the right opportunity to attack, but he found you running away instead. You were a curious sight for him. Yes, what he said is correct. You will start to experience things…"

"Like visions—"

"Being able to see without glasses and do wandless magic—"

"I had a strange dream before you came in, about Harry, he was being interrogated, I think—"

"My dear boy, I do not care for the whereabouts or what is happening to _our_ misguided Harry, so you do not need to tell me. What I'm interested in at this very moment is _you_ and what you can do for me."

Heat rose into Harry's face. "What I can do for you while I rot in here, because you refuse to lift your finger to help me?"

Dumbledore sighed. "While you begin to experience the advanced magic our Harry possesses, he will experience things you will possess, abilities he used to have but he has lost in his downward spiral into the Dark side. You can help him see the path he has taken and guide him. You must help him!"

"How?"

"You've already told me how."

Harry was frustrated and hurt beyond belief. Just thinking was exhausting, and he just couldn't stand the old wizard any longer. "But I can do it… whatever you need outside of this prison…"

"That is true… however, Voldemort knows that there is only one Harry Potter and that boy is safely tucked away in the Black Square. That is the reason why I cannot get you out. We must keep this illusion alive. Otherwise you, _as well, _will be in danger."

"I'm already in danger!" Harry yelled. "This was never meant to be!"

"All I can say is that… I have been expected you for a long time." And with those last few words Dumbledore stood up and the chintz chair disappeared with a crack.

"WHAT? SIR? DON'T WALK AWAY FROM ME!"

But in a few short strides Dumbledore had reached the cell door.

"PLEASE!" Harry was desperate for the headmaster to stay. "What's the Obsidian Stitch?" he pointed towards the graffiti on the walls. "Where are Peter Pettigrew's Children? What is happening to Harry?" he had so many questions and so little time to get those answers before the darkness of Cell Number 13 swallowed him in again.

Dumbledore turned around, his ancient hand on the doorway, ready for the iron door to open. He tethered on the edge of saying something.

"I am very sorry Harry, I cannot stay any longer. Otherwise, I too, will be arrested. What happens hence forth is for the greater good."

"NO!" Harry fell to his knees, tugging onto the wizard's robes, willing him not to leave. It felt childish and embarrassing that he was begging, but what choice did he have? Either that or stay imprisoned.

"The Dumbledore in my world would've prevented me from making a small cut, in order to spill my own blood, you-"

Dumbledore's fingers pulled away Harry's long dirty hair to reveal the lightning bolt scar. He rested his warm hand on Harry's cheek, blue eyes on green. Harry didn't care what Dumbledore was seeing in his mind, he just let him... he didn't care any more.

"Are you sure, Harry? Are you sure that before_ your _Dumbledore died, that he was only preventing that simple cut - saving you from your small hurt - only to rip open your jugular at a later date?"

Harry was taken aback, in shock; he didn't know what to say. "He wouldn't…"

Again that forlorn, saddened expression veiled the old face of Albus Dumbledore. "You have endured greatly in your own world, and here, yet we have suffered for twenty-eight years. Help us and I will help you… just hold on a little longer. Give us hope."

Harry let go of Dumbledore's robes, finally letting the weight of the world pile on his shoulders, drilling him into the cold stone floor.

"How many know of my existence?" Harry asked, defeated, giving up to any rescue he longed for.

"So far: our Harry, Petunia Dursley, the Pettigrew children and myself. Though I suspect your mother knows, and it won't be long before Remus and Kingsley start to doubt your presence."

"My aunt will wake up-"

"Ahh…" Dumbledore smiled, "Not unless I allow her too! She will not wake from her deep sleep until I am satisfied."

It was shock after shock Harry was experiencing. How many lives have this wizard puppeteered. "I never expected you to be so different."

"I've disappointed you. I apologise that I am not the hero and mentor you perceived I was in your world. But I do not think you really knew him and what he was capable of in order to fix the world. I have to say, in my own defence, that the war in this world has changed everyone, including myself."

"I can believe that…" Harry slumped his shoulders, sitting on the floor.

"Now, I must head off, James Potter has been missing for eight days since the Battle of Godric's Hallow and I must help look for him…"

Harry's attention perked up once more. "Dad-James? What battle?" Lily would be devastated. The Potter family had been through so much.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied sadly. "I'm afraid Sirius Black has been killed, his body had been discovered soon after…" His voice cracked.

Harry could tell the loss hat hit Dumbledore hard. Harry felt the blow as well, but strangely, even though he was saddened, there was still no connection for the Sirius of this world. He was a stranger. The Sirius Harry missed was the one he knew and longed for dearly.

"He was a great fighter… he will be greatly missed." Dumbledore knocked on the iron twice. "Oh and Harry, do practice your Occlumency. You will discover it will be much easier to do so now. You will need to keep our conversation within the deepest recesses of your mind or the Black Square will know your secrets, which will interest and benefit many."

The door creaked open on its own accord, Dumbledore then left.

Harry was again alone.

As he suspected the quiet and the darkness curled around his body like ice. It was fiercer than anything he'd experienced thus far, as waves of emotions splashed over him and the reel of Dumbledore's words played over and over again in his mind.

_You must help him… James Potter missing, Sirius Black dead… A few more weeks… help us, and I will help you… Until I am satisfied… A few more weeks…_ _Not unless I allow her too…What you can do for me…_

"FUCK!" Harry yelled into the nothingness. The flickering light overhead made his shadow dance ominously, like a demon taunting Harry's newfound misery. He smashed his fists onto the cold stone floor. He didn't care about the pain. As he punched his fist into the ground several times, no tears came. He had nothing left to give, but an empty black feeling.

"Fuck you..."

He gave in and lay curled up in a ball, his head resting against stone, listening to his own thumping heartbeat in his ears. It sounded like the drum of death was approaching.

Harry felt like both worlds had won against him. What could he do now? He had two choices: Listen to Dumbledore and do as he wished and he would survive. Or fight against his oppressors and die trying to escape. Then hope that Dumbledore would transport his body back to his own world, so that at least Ron and Hermione would know what had happened to him and have some closure.

Harry had his sharpened stool leg hiding beneath his mattress. He was planning to attack Brodes and his cronies as soon as he laid their hands on him. There was no doubt in his mind that he would end up like Mundungus Fletcher, his body strewn naked and broken for the prisoners to see as a warning that their defiance would only give them a horrible death.

He would never see Ginny again.

Then he remembered the words Dumbledore had spoken in the great hall after Cedric Diggory had died at the end of his fourth year. _You must choose between what is easy and what is right…_

Fighting and dying would be the easy way out in this situation, Harry mused. He laughed out loud. This notion never sounded so appealing than now.

Ron… Hermione… _Ginny_…

Harry let out a scream of utter frustration and another round of swearing. Then, using the wall for support he pulled himself up, his knees aching badly. He rubbed his eyes and was surprised to see a pile of warm blankets on his bed and some food.

Harry rushed over, grabbed the loaf of bread, holding onto it for dear life and gulped down huge chucks before he could even chew it. He rummaged through the small pile Dumbledore had left him. Harry hid the thick rough biscuits behind a loose stone in the wall he had discovered days ago along with some chocolate and three oranges. Harry didn't even bother peeling a fat juicy orange, he ate it skin and all.

**Please read and Review**

_**Next chapter: Lily worries for her husband as the death and destruction is cleaned up in Godric's Hallow and she has a surprise encounter with Severus. Harry meets Umbridge again, but this time she holds something dear to him. ** _


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